Min Ferrin
by malvakai
Summary: AU @ end of TCOR. Riddick finds someone the Purifier left behind, shares his blue eyes. M for adult themes. Part5: Jack returns. Ch84 Ending & Epilogue. Ch85 Alternate Ending. Jack continues in Different Sisters - Recently edited, no content change.
1. In the Air

**Rating:** PG: some use of the F and similar words. Some R chapters.  
**Category:** Het; Adventure; Action; Angst; skippable PWP later.  
**Summary:** TCOR AU: Riddick finds someone the Purifier left behind. It's her story.  
**Disclaimer:** This is written for enjoyment rather than profit, I do not own the borrowed characters or storyline. My OFC is my property and not to be reused without my permission.  
There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.  
**Feedback:** Please DO give me any feedback you feel is appropriate, including shredding. This is first draft stuff.  
**Notes:** I have called this a Mary Sue Adventure but I think she actually qualifies as an OFC. You'll have to be the judge. Meanwhile, it is written from her perspective, so if you live and breathe for constant Riddick smart-ass comments and his personal emotional conflicts you'll miss that here. I do feel that I lose his voice in a few small places, but on the other hand we don't see him 'relaxed' very often and it's therefore possibly forgivable. I do blame the voice I hear on my husband, it's his smart-ass comments I'm stealing. Gotta love him! Thank you GoSpeedGrrrl/GreenEyedMonster for smacking me with manic need and inspiration, as well as beta'ing the later chapters. Kyra stays dead. Sorry. Some artistic license (i.e. Oops! I forgot some details from the movie) involving her. That's why it's AU. -grin- The PWP chapters are, as I've said, entirely skippable but so soft that I let my daughter beta. She patted me on the head and said, "I'm proud of you for stepping outside of your box, Mom." LOL That's good, right?

**

* * *

**

**In The Air**

MinFerrin hid in the vast hallway, watching the crowds rush by. Something was amiss and she could feel it from everyone who passed her. "In the air, in the air, in the air…" she repeated quietly to herself as she made her way towards the throne room. She could hear Dame Vaako making horrendous noises nearby and Min hid herself in the shadows, but Dame Vaako spotted her anyway. An evil smile tightened across her mouth as she rushed towards Min.

"Dame Va…" Min began, bowing her head but Dame Vaako slapped her hard for the pure release of it. The violence seemed to spill out of her as she slapped Min again and again in a rage. Lord Vaako, sending the last of the people out of the throne room spotted the clash and rushed to calm his wife.

"Stop it, stop it! Leave the poor girl alone." He threw his arms around his wife and spoke directly into her face. Min didn't stay to listen; she bolted for the throne room to see what had happened.

The room was being quickly cleared. Min found a dark hiding spot, hoping they would ignore her, as usual. There was a Witch near the throne, a dead girl on the floor, and a strange man pacing angrily between them. Several of the Lord's top men were standing around his dead body! Before she could creep closer Dame Vaako was on her again, dragging her out by the arm and hissing at her husband about fixing it herself. Min went limp, let her face relax and simply started chanting "In the air, in the air, in the air…" again under her breath.

"Come with me, Min," Dame Vaako began in her sugary sweet voice that set Min's teeth on edge. "You can't be presented to your new Lord looking like that…" And off they went to the Vaako's quarters.

At least Dame Vaako was being informative. She was whispering cruelly about the death of the Purifier by the hands of a Furyan. Min would have smiled at the ridiculousness of such a thing if she hadn't had years of practice playing an imbecile. Lady Vaako went on to say that the strange man, Riddick, was her new Master and Lord Marshal of them all. Riddick had apparently killed Min's Master on some hell planet, then returned here to kill the Lord Marshal. Now they would all be stuck with him if Min didn't help the Lady fix it.

Min agreed in her usual vacant way, which of course pleased Dame Vaako to no end. Lady Vaako hated her, and treated her badly when she could, but Min felt sure the Lady would rather have the whole universe act just like her: vacant and pliable.

In the Vaako's quarters, Dame Vaako sat Min down in front of a mirror and attacked her hair roughly. Min made the appropriate mewing noises and tried to pull away. What on earth did this annoying, manipulative woman think she would accomplish with a make over? Min waited impatiently for the other shoe to drop.

When Vaako finally finished her hair it was pulled out of her usual braid so it fell over her shoulders, but away from her face in the manner of the dead girl on the floor. Min had seen the girl alive earlier in the day, before she was cleansed. Vaako spun her around and began attacking her face with makeup. Min never wore the stuff and wiggled as much as she dared without getting her eye poked out. Then Vaako put heavy gloss on her lips. Min tried to wipe it away with the back of her hand, but Dame Vaako slapped it and told her, "Poise, Min." Min sat up straight and smiled benignly at the command.

"That's better. You don't want to wipe this off, my dear girl. You want to help me, don't you?" Dame Vaako looked straight into Min's face.

"Yes, Dame Vaako," Min replied obediently.

Vaako pulled a small vial out of a drawer and looked Min in the eye again. "Don't lick this off, Min, or you will fail me. You don't want to fail me."

Min nodded earnestly and eyed the bottle. Failing was the least of her concerns. The Lady was reputed to be a capable poisoner.

"This is important, Min. You must welcome your new Master with a kiss." Vaako daubed some of the clear liquid on Min's lips and blew on them to make it dry. "Be a good girl, now, and make him like you. Then kiss him. You'll make everything all better."

Min nodded and returned Dame Vaako's malignant smile with one of little girl eagerness.


	2. Keep What You Kill

**Keep What You Kill**

Dame Vaako dragged Min back to the throne room and bullied the guards outside it to let her in. "Poise, Min," Vaako whispered to her again. Min stood straighter, with her head high and a slight open-mouthed smile on her lips.

Vaako led her regally into the room. Very little had changed in twenty minutes. The Witch and the man Riddick -Furyan if Lady Vaako was to be believed- were still arguing. She spoke calmly, while his low voice was barely restrained anger, and exhaustion. Lord Vaako seemed nearly in awe of the man and seemed to be trying to persuade him. The other Commanders stood apart. The dead girl was still on the floor where the Riddick threw grieving looks. Thankfully, the Lord Marshal's body had been removed.

"You keep what you kill," Dame Vaako interjected melodiously. Riddick glared at the interruption and Min dropped her eyes quickly. Those blue eyes! Furyan, indeed!

"The Purifier is dead," Dame Vaako continued flatly.

The Riddick was slow to respond. "He is dead."

Dame Vaako's smile was that of early victory. "This," she thrust Min forward, "is now yours as well."

Min started to hunch her shoulders but Vaako was too fast, prodding her in the back and hissing, "Poise, Min." Min stood straighter but kept her eyes on the floor.

"Lord Riddick, this is MinFerrin, the Purifier's concubine, now yours." Dame Vaako's voice seemed to irritate the Riddick as much as it did Min. "She's a simpleton, but lovely, don't you think?"

The Riddick merely turned away impatiently, dismissing the entire idea but Dame Vaako wasn't stymied at all. As she went on pleasantly touting all the wonders he had inherited by becoming Lord Marshal, Min faded back slowly. The Witch was paying too much attention to Min, but then the argument between Dame Vaako and the Riddick drew her away again. Min breathed a little sigh of relief and looked for a way to wipe her lips and escape the room. She needed time to think, to escape the ship if she could, if her protector… was really dead.

Her eyes fell on the body of the dead girl. Min eased her way nearer. If the Riddick was protective of the girl… "Poor girl, poor girl," she whispered quietly to no-one as she got closer. The movement caught Riddick's eye, but the Witch was between them so Min moved a little closer. She sat near the dead girl and stroked her hair whispering, "Poor girl, poor little girl…"

From the corner of her eye, she saw the Riddick wave a hand her way. "Get away from her," he growled.

One of the few remaining guards moved towards her and reached to pull her away. Min seized the opportunity to foil Dame Vaako. She bit the guard hard on the hand and tried to wipe her lips off on his skin. The guard howled and pulled away. Min scrambled around the body and huddled protectively over it, whispering again, "Poor girl, poor girl." When the guard reached again, Min picked up her head and bared her teeth in an open-mouth growl that ended in a hiss, drawing the second guard towards them.

"Just leave her." The Riddick sighed, and the guards complied.

Min brushed and stroked the dead girl's hair, humming and occasionally whispering, "Poor girl."

She knew the Riddick was watching her and Dame Vaako was looking on in approval. It probably wasn't what Dame Vaako had expected Min to do to gain the Riddick's favor, but Min knew she'd calculated it right. She glanced up and looked him in the eye with a small sad smile before letting her eyes wander again. He turned away slowly and Min hummed tunelessly and began to braid a lock of the girl's hair.

The guard she'd bitten was beginning to sweat profusely. Min suddenly wanted out of the room, but she had to play her part. The conflict between the Witch and the Riddick seemed to be drawing to a close; the Witch's whole shimmering body seemed to say victory. Min knew the Witch was depending on the Riddick to get her out of the ship safely too. If he tried to abdicate his title and leave, they would kill him and the Witch if they could. If he just stayed to rule them, he would be safe. He seemed inclined to fight them all, but Min could see his exhaustion as clearly as Dame Vaako's malice and the Witch's smugness.

"Fine," he said finally. "Take me to my rooms." Min breathed a sigh of relief as she finished the braid because the guard was teetering. The Riddick started to walk towards the main door but turned and looked back towards Min. "Bring the girl," he said, just as the guard fell dead. Dame Vaako suddenly looked as if she'd been trumped, but didn't dare show her anger. "Bury the girl on the planet." The Riddick looked at Dame Vaako penetratingly before turning away.

Min scrambled up before Vaako could turn on her and eluded the next nearest guard. "Poor girl…" Min kept up her rambling and did her best to put space between her and the Witch. The Riddick was already out the door, led by Lord Vaako, when the Witch used her powers to close on Min. The ghostly apparition that suddenly confronted Min was the break she needed. Min froze and looked frightened. As the Witch solidified and Dame Vaako closed the gap, Min shrieked and bolted for the door. She dodged the men trying to grab her and made it into the vast hallway.

Ahead, the Riddick paused at the scream. He and Lord Vaako turned just as Min fled the throne room, dodging around another guard and arrowing for the shadows cast by the hall's architecture. As the Witch breezed through the doors, Min scuttled further away and closer to the Riddick and Lord Vaako. The guards closed in and she dodged them again.

The Riddick laughed out loud. "The great armies at my command… can't catch a simple girl."

Lord Vaako's lips pressed into a tight line. "MinFerrin," he barked. "Come here."

Min slipped quietly forward while the guards searched behind her before sheepishly stepping into the light near Lord Vaako. The Riddick had followed her progress but the rest hadn't. Interesting, she thought to herself.

"Yes, Lord Vaako." Min kept her head down and let her voice waiver in fear.

"Follow us," was all he told her.

Min followed in her usual annoying manner: humming and swinging her arms like a child and letting her eyes wander as if seeing things the others did not. But she was sneaking glances at the man Riddick. She occasionally stopped to have a brief word with some invisible entity before Lord Vaako called her back. The man, the Furyan, Riddick didn't seem to be paying too much attention to her, but Vaako was getting annoyed to beat hell. That suited Min just fine, though he didn't bother her as much as the other Lords. Min was careful to keep as far away as possible from the Witch who followed the retinue.

At the Lord Marshal's, suite a bridge tech reset the code for the new Marshall. And while Min seemed to be chasing butterflies, she was watching and memorizing the code. She thought maybe the Riddick might have caught her looking but she couldn't be sure. She had learned a lot of codes this way. The 'Mongers had learned to ignore her presence.

Inside, Vaako wanted to give the new Lord a tour, but the Riddick sent them all away protesting, including the Witch, and voice-locked the door. But Min was in, and wandering in her aimless way- while actually looking carefully for secret eyes and ears.

The Riddick threw himself on one of the lavish suite's many couches and put his hands to his head, elbows on his knees, and sighed deeply. His shoulders shook slightly and Min guessed he was grieving the girl. She moved off quietly to explore an area of the ship she'd never been in before: the Lord Marshal's private quarters.


	3. Secrets

**Secrets**

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; just more expansive than the suite she had shared for so many years with Lord Ferrin. She pushed all thoughts of him and his apparent death aside. She couldn't grieve safely here. Survival first, he had taught her. She wasn't sure how long her cover would withstand intense scrutiny of this stranger and now she had nowhere else to hide. She either needed a new protector or to finally escape this ship. This Riddick might offer her one of those chances, if she could trust him.

Right now she wasn't sure she could trust these rooms. It was unlikely anyone had time to bug them or that the previous Lord Marshal would have allowed such a thing when he was alive. But would he himself have had surveillance? And could it be accessed from outside these rooms? She couldn't really be sure without her gadgets, stashed in her suite.

Still, she looked in all the usual places a camera would be most useful. Talking to walls for so many years was such an excellent cover for this kind of search. When she had completed a full circuit of the suite with no obvious, but a few possible, targets, she found the Riddick just scrubbing his face roughly with both hands. He seemed utterly drained and that made him look dangerous and cold.

"Hungry now?" She piped her little girl voice and he started as if he had forgotten she was there, or at least hadn't expected her to address him. Good, she thought to herself. Either way, he had taken her presence for granted, she had become invisible to him, just as she had to the 'Mongers.

But when he squinted at her for a second or two too long she was suddenly unsure of that. Then she realized he still had his blue lenses up, that was strange. She let herself become a mask of concern.

"Lights bright?" She asked and naturally the lights brightened at her command and he had to stop staring at her as he shaded his eyes with one hand.

"Oh!" She exclaimed as if surprised. "Lights dim. Lights dim." The Riddick took his hand away. "Lights dim." She said again. Now the room was murky and he dropped his hand entirely. Strange that he kept his blue lenses up, but he appeared more comfortable now.

"Hungry now?" She repeated but more softly, as if the dark begged for whispering. Sometimes she just wanted to laugh at herself for the obviously childish behavior that was her camouflage and since it was also sometimes in character she would indulge herself and laugh out loud. She fretted briefly that she might actually go mad pretending to be insane all the time. But she pushed those thoughts away too. For now she wouldn't laugh, playing the part of the concerned little girl in the woman's body.

"You belonged to the Purifier?" He asked slowly, and his low voice sounded menacing even in a simple question. She wondered if he modulated his tone and timing for just that effect, but she mentally shrugged it off. Not everyone needed to mask themselves as she did.

"I belong to Lord Ferrin." Min stuttered.

"Hmnn." Riddick responded. "How long?" The Riddick was following her every move with his eyes. Damn.

"Long time…" Min used a sing gong voice. This was going backwards. She didn't want to talk about herself.

"Liked little girls, did he?" Riddick's scorn was palpable. That was interesting, usually the reaction was titillation. The 'Mongers liked dirt, the dirtier the better. It gave them a sense of power.

"I'm not little, silly!" She laughed too loud for the quiet room. But he didn't cringe at her little girl reaction. He was studying her. Not good. Min stood and swung her arms and found the walls more interesting than she had before. He didn't dismiss her actions like a 'Monger would. 'Mongers didn't have children of their own and didn't like her distracting actions. They tended to glaze their eyes over her and nod smugly to each other about Lord Ferrin's peculiarities. But the Riddick was still studying her and it made her nervous. Damn. Damn. Damn.

"Where is he?" She smiled vacantly.

"He's dead." The Riddick's words dropped on her like stones, though she knew it already. She let her face change slowly, letting it match the dark pit her stomach had just dropped into. She let her brows come together in confusion that she actually felt but couldn't express before.

"Dead?" A tiny lost voice. She could let herself feel tiny and lost for a moment before she had to push it all away again. Before she could escape back into the vacancy of her character.

The Riddick was studying her, she knew, but it didn't matter. For a moment she could express what she felt, for a moment she wasn't false. Before real grief could get a grip on her and strip away her self-control she blanked her mind.

"You keep what you kill," she parroted in a flat voice and she saw the tiniest flick of muscles in his jaw. Not quite a cringe but something she would have to dig for later. Something that wasn't right, something he was hiding?

Character, Min, character, she reminded herself. What's the right reaction for this mentally challenged character you wear like armor? Min's face dropped from the horror and shock of the moment to a mask of sadness. "No good, no good," she repeated quietly to herself and turned away from him. She would find her private place to cry out her anguish later, where prying eyes wouldn't see. For now she needed to survive the moment with her mask intact. She hadn't really believed Dame Vaako, or it hadn't sunk in until this man's cold reality faced her.

This man to whom she now 'belonged', this Furyan who killed her Ferrin, might be her only chance to escape. Had Ferrin known that when he volunteered for the Lord Marshal's mission?

The Riddick stood and said something. Min had to drag her rushing thoughts back to the now. He'd said something about food: a good enough distraction for her simpleton self. Min sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand.

"Hungry now?" she said in a tiny voice and risked a glance at him. He actually looked a little concerned! Min was caught off guard and tears welled up unexpectedly. She bit her tongue and let the pain hold her in the now.

"Hungry now." She repeated and moved towards a console. "Hungry now." She said more firmly and called up a menu.

The Riddick followed and glanced at it over her shoulder but either wasn't inclined to offer an opinion or wasn't familiar with the dishes. Min chose a variety of meat and vegetable rolls and sauces to dip them in; simple and filling and entirely in character. She could hardly be expected to order a prime cut and crustaceans. Damn, her mind was wandering again.

"MinFerrin." The Riddick had to repeat himself to get her attention. She turned slowly to look at him.

"I said, how long before the food comes?"

Min shrugged and let her eyes wander away from his face. "Cooks… cook." She said simply.

"Is there anything to drink around here or do we have to wait for the cooks to cook that up too?"

Min's eyes wandered towards the suite's bar. Riddick followed her look and started opening and sniffing at bottles.

"I wonder if the classy stuff gives you the same hangover the cheap stuff does?" He said and took a long drink out of a bottle. Min knew he wasn't really talking to her but she wandered over towards him and looked on passively. She really needed to know more about him. Drunks were not only mildly amusing; they tended to talk too much.

The Riddick took down a stunning crystal goblet, muted in the darkened room, and poured something amber into it.

"Drink up." He told her and his voice carried a note of challenge. The sneak! Min thought. But she never got drunk and her simple-minded alter ego had no reason to like the stuff. He wouldn't find out more about her than she would him this way.

Min brought the glass up to her face and smelled it. She pinched her features into a grimace and said, "Smells funny."

"Don't drink, huh?" He was studying her again. Had she given something away or was he just this suspicious of everyone? She made a face and shook her head no and returned the glass to the bar.

The Riddick took another swig and, bottle in hand, began to finally examine his surroundings. This time Min did not follow. He was examining the art and frescos on the walls more obviously than she had.

Apparently he had the same thought as she when, again, seemingly talking to himself he said, "You could hide eyes and ears anywhere in this place."

Min stayed mute. Her persona would have no idea what he meant. But he turned and looked at her deliberately again, cocking his head as if waiting for an answer.

Damn. Damn. Damn. She thought; she must have given herself away somewhere. But she kept her face as blank and stupid as possible. Or perhaps Dame Vaako's uncharacteristically foolish play had made him suspicious of her.

Getting no response from her, the Riddick continued his lone tour of the lavish suite while Min stood quietly where he'd left her. He seemed to pause in all the same places she had, as if he knew instinctively what areas could be best covered by a single camera. Curious skill, she thought.

But if there were cameras, they were no more visible to him than they had been to her more familiar eyes. His blue lenses wouldn't be any help either. She needed her devices, back in her suite, to be sure. She wondered again about his eyes.

"There's something not quite right about you." The Riddick spoke from across the room with his back to her. "Something I can't figure."

This startled Min to her bones. She had given herself away somehow. How? She remained silent.

"I saw you watching that security code. The tech was trying to keep everyone else from seeing it but he wasn't paying any attention to you." He turned to look at her again with those shining eyes.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell, she thought.

"And you wander around this place talking to the scenery in exactly the same places I would look for hidden cameras."

Min felt the blood drain from her face and a flutter of panic in her stomach. She thought about how she might escape this room. But it didn't matter if he had seen through her. After years of successfully hiding in plain sight this stranger had seen through her in less than an hour.

"And Dame Vaako obviously hoped to have you poison me. But she doesn't know me that well. And then you went and tripped her up. That was interesting."

"Clumsy." Was all Min could whisper.

"What was that?" He practically jumped on her comment.

"Clumsy." She repeated in a whisper. There was no use denying that the usually more subtle Dame Vaako had been rushing with that stunt.

The Riddick approached her, bottle still in hand nearly empty, but not the least bit drunk. "And you conveniently belonged to the only other Furyan I've ever met."

Min looked up at this.

"So who are you really?" He was nearly on top of her but he rocked back on his heels as if it was all some colossal joke.

"I am MinFerrin," she began in her little girl voice but he leaped, producing a knife which he held at her throat. Min had seen it coming, had seen his muscles flex for the strike, but her persona bound her to do nothing except wait for it to come.

"I asked you who you are really." He menaced. "Not just the Purifier's sex toy. That clumsy," he paused using her word, "act in the throne room was to get me to trust you so you could kill me later."

"I can't kill you." Min whispered. She wasn't afraid yet. He was still fishing.

"Did you know Ferrin was a Furyan?"

"Yes," she whispered again, eyes darting to where the nearest camera might be.

He caught the movement but a tightening of his facial muscles told her he didn't care.

"Who else knew? Vaako?"

"No," she whispered. "No one."

"The Lord Marshal?"

Now Min's jaw tightened a moment before she answered. "He knew about everything," she paused. "Almost everything."

"So I'm part of some grand plan to kill the Lord Marshal?"

Min almost laughed in his face. Grand plan? The man was definitely paranoid.

"No," she whispered, still loathe to reveal herself but certain it was now the only way to get the knife off her throat. She had to prove herself quickly.

"He didn't know about me." She whispered and hoped to hell there were no bugs. Her brows came together in momentary concentration and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again they were the same glittering blue as Riddick's.


	4. Détente

**Détente**

The knife came a millimeter off her skin, leaving behind a paper-thin line of blood. Breath leapt out of her- she hadn't realized she'd been holding it. The Riddick was staring and she knew exactly how he saw her face, saw her eyes, because she was seeing him that way now too.

"How the fuck did you do that." He exploded. She wasn't expecting him to be angry. She blinked in confusion and her blue lenses dropped back, making her eyes and her vision normal again.

Min spoke in a language she hadn't spoken to another being but her Ferrin in over a decade.

"What the fuck was that?" The Riddick put the tip of the knife to the point just under her chin. Min sucked in a breath and hissed at him in low tones.

"I said, 'I'm Furian, you colossal prick.'" Then to prove it she broke his hold on her in a power move that would not have worked had he not already been surprised. She stepped out of his grip and backed away into an en-gaurde stance, then brought her blue lenses back up. If she was going to have to fight this fucker she wasn't doing in blind.

A half beat later the Riddick was moving on her again, but she caught the twitch in his neck muscles and knew it was only a testing feint. She countered it minimally, not wanting to show where her weaknesses lie. She couldn't match his strength but maybe in speed, if he kept telegraphing his moves.

"Where'd a simpleton learn to move like that?" She thought his voice was almost cheery. Lovely, she thought grimly, he thinks this is fun.

"My Ferrin taught me." She still kept her voice pitched low. Maybe there weren't cameras or voice pick-ups… maybe.

The muscle in his jaw twitched again. Damn, he knew he was telegraphing that, she thought, as he feinted again. She had to step into him, so she threw a hip as if to try a throw and rolled across his back instead. Then she tried to leap away, hoping to outdistance his reach before he pivoted.

Damn. Damn. Damn. He's faster than he looks, she thought, as he caught her in a grapple that put the knife back under her chin.

"I told you I couldn't kill you." She hissed. "But if this room's bugged you've killed me."

"How'd you do that with your eyes?" He asked calmly, she thought amusedly.

"All Furians have the blue lenses."

"The Purifier didn't."

"Yes, he did. But he hadn't used them in years."

"Why?"

"The cleansing. It ruined half his mind. The only way he could think for himself was in our language. Like he could side step the cleansing. But it was tearing his mind apart." Tears leaped into her eyes as she thought about the anguish her Ferrin suffered, and struggled against, in her behalf. She closed her eyes instead. She couldn't cry for him yet. He would be disappointed if she didn't survive this moment. She looked back up at him. "Get that knife off my throat?"

Those words startled him in some way. He blinked and his throat tightened for a moment: Something else to dig for later. But he didn't release her and didn't remove the knife right away. Then he seemed to come to some decision. "Show me." He demanded and spun her loose.

She didn't fall or even stumble. She planted one foot and turned back towards him in a defensive stance again. She looked at him calmly while he hid the knife on his person again.

"Show you what?"

"Show me how you change your eyes."

Min frowned. "You've never…?"


	5. In The Dark

**In The Dark**

So far, everything this Riddick had done had caught her off guard. She wasn't used to it in this ship of static personalities and constant politicking. Min didn't trust this sudden turnabout either, even though it was the payoff to the gamble she'd taken. Okay, who's paranoid now? She thought to herself.

"Someone once told me it was strange how we remember our past. Truth is, I don't remember much of it by choice." The Riddick spoke in those low measured tones again. "Most of it isn't worth the bother to remember."

"But I remember going to my first slam, a slam so dark…" The Riddick paused and Min had time to wonder what a slam was.

"I was too fucking young to be in prison…"

Oh! She thought.

"…But that didn't matter. There I was." The Riddick's voice grew a little louder with bitterness. "I had to learn to survive. I had to learn to read by the shit they wrote on the walls. I don't remember learning to turn these on."

There was challenge in his voice. He still didn't quite believe her. He'd lived most of his life looking at the world that way? Min was suddenly worried. What if he couldn't learn to drop his dark light lenses? Would he decide she was lying? The first time she revealed the truth about herself and now she risked dying.

Well, not the first time. The first time nearly cost her her life too. But she'd killed instead, for the first time.

She didn't think she could kill this Riddick, she didn't have the skills, and now she no longer had her disguise of harmlessness.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

"It- it's an in-involuntary muscle," she started off doubtfully, her normal voice alien to her ear. She rushed on, "Children usually learn to control it at about seven years old." She cleared her throat, uncomfortable still at hearing her own voice and speaking so openly in this place.

The Riddick, no, Riddick; his name, not a title, she thought consciously. Riddick was standing still as stone, waiting for her to do something. He wasn't telegraphing anything now. Min dropped her hands slowly and took a hesitant step forward out of her guarded stance. He cocked his head at her again as if saying, 'Well? Get on with it.'

"It's an involuntary muscle," she said again, blushing in the dark at her own nervousness. "But if I can just touch your face, there's nerve points I might be able to…" She trailed off as she took another step forward. Arms reach now, and she wanted to laugh too loudly or swing her arms like a silly little girl to break her own tension. Too many years she had relied on her affectations to cover herself.

Damn it, woman, you aren't a little girl, and he might be an ally, so get some backbone, she berated herself. If he were an armored cat he'd eat you just for acting like prey. Now stand up! Min dropped her shoulders and forced her muscles to relax as she took the last step up to Riddick. He was still unmoving and she thought of her cats again and how she moved with them. Unafraid, slow like the cats moved, not predator or prey. She brought her hands up to his face and he tilted his head down towards her.

"Relax," she whispered and bit her tongue to stifle an inappropriate giggle. She brought her fingertips to his eyebrows and felt lightly for the notch at the start of each of them. Then she circled his eyes along the edge of the eye socket with her thumbs to the point of his cheekbones and pressed up. "Close your eyes," she told him. "I'm going to press a little harder, then open your eyes and we'll see what happens." Fingertips at one nerve point and thumbs at the other she pushed hard against his face then dropped her hands and stood back.

"Open your eyes slowly so you don't twitch your lenses back up." She spoke softly. Her own lenses were still up so she could see if his eyes shined or not. Please work, please don't have atrophied, she thought over and over.

Riddick's head came up, eyes still closed. She couldn't see his eyes, but she assumed he hadn't opened them yet, so she was startled when he spoke, stretching the word out slowly.

"Interesting."


	6. Out ofthe Dark

**Out Of The Dark**

* * *

Min had been holding her breath again and blew it out in a loud sigh. "Lights up." She said as she dropped her own lenses. The room was dim but not murky now. Riddick's brows were drawn together but he seemed ok with the change so far as he looked around the room.

"More light?" She asked him.

"Lights up." He said himself.

Control freak, she thought with an internal grin. At least he wasn't mad anymore. Min started to relax. "Scene. Ferrin 1441." Min spoke with more confidence and the walls leapt to life. Riddick started as much as he ever did, she assumed, as the sudden change in his surroundings elicited one whole shoulder muscle twitch.

Must be nice to have that much confidence, she thought as Riddick stared at the scenery now surrounding them.

"What's this?"

"Just my favorite. Well, my Ferrin's favorite." She amended.

The walls and ceiling were alive with moving foliage and wild animal sounds; a jungle or a rainforest with a high canopy and filtered red light. Small and large creatures could be glimpsed as they went on their normal daily lives. Min walked around looking at the different views offered.

"Computer simulation?" He asked.

"It's computer enhanced, you can see quite a bit more with your dark light lenses up than you would with a normal scenery. But it was originally a live feed." Min mused as she searched the different walls and their views. "Here, come watch this bit..." She waved him over.

An armored cat stepped out of the underbrush, its eyes glittered blue, the holographic quality of the wall scenery made it nearly 3D as it padded by. It paused and made a grumbling noise. Two kits followed their queen out of the brush looking like tiny serious copies of their mother before the trio disappeared back into the forest.

"I've met one those." Riddick commented dryly, startling Min once again. At least she was nearly as good at covering her internal reactions with outward calm as he was.

"They're nearly extinct. But there's a couple on this ship. The Lords have their own private zoo of creatures they admired before they destroyed its world." Min's words were cold with old anger. Riddick turned, presumably to read her reaction, but she'd already dropped the emotion from her face.

The door chimed for attention causing Riddick's head to turn sharply in that direction. Min saw his blue lenses pop back up. "Lights dim." She said, as he suddenly needed to squint into the glare again.

"It's probably just dinner." She commented as she moved towards the door. At the com there she put on her old safe self. "Yesss?" she asked in her little girl voice.

"Dinner has arrived." One of the guards outside responded, in the background Min could hear the Witch making a fuss and demanding entry. Min backed away from the door and shot a glance to Riddick. But he looked like he wasn't planning on being any help. Sadist, she thought and wrapped her armor tighter around her mind.

"Enter," the vacant little girl answered, steeling herself for the spectacle she was about to make.

The door opened and a servant tried to wheel the service tray into the room but the Witch was trying to get in first. Min froze near the door as she caught sight of the Elemental, then she backed up to the wall behind her putting a fist to her mouth to stifle a scream, her eyes wide with counterfeit terror. The Elemental pushed her way in and the service tray followed along with the two guards who stopped and looked at Riddick expectantly. Min stayed frozen, waiting for her chance to bolt from the room.

Riddick crossed his arms and tilted his head back in a smile as counterfeit as Min's fear.

"Aereon," his voice boomed, "to what do I owe this dubious pleasure? I thought I told you and everyone else to leave me alone." His voice dropped to a dangerous low at the last word.

"We have to talk," the Elemental started in her imperious tone but paused as she looked around. "I thought you didn't remember your home world?" The Witch looked around and her eyes fell on Min.

That was her cue. Min ran screaming. Riddick's look at her as she passed him was as infuriating a smirk as she expected. Prick. Min dived behind the nearest couch and crouched in terror. She wanted to hear.

Riddick didn't respond to the Witch's question. Min heard the door shut and the swish of Aereon's clothing as she moved further into the room.

"This holographic, did you know it was of Fury?"

"You came to discuss my entertainment choices?" Riddick's voice was dry and impatient.

"I'm here to discuss your destiny."

Min inwardly seethed at the Witch's imperious attitude. Apparently Riddick was unimpressed with her as well.

"Have I told you to fuck off lately?"

Min stuck a knuckle in her mouth and bit down on it hard to keep from laughing right out loud. She wished she could see the Witch's face. She forgave Riddick a little for his smirking at her.

"I don't think you understand the position which you've..."

"I don't think you understand," he cut her off. "You're standing between me... and my dinner."

Min heard the doors open and Riddick address the guards outside it. "Escort our esteemed guest to the lodgings provided to her by the previous Marshall." Min could have applauded. The conniving, scheming, self-important bitch could rot. She wished Dame Vaako would find herself similarly quartered.

"If you're done back there," Riddick drolled, "I can't eat all this by myself."


	7. Tiger, Tiger

**Tiger, Tiger**

* * *

Min stood up slowly, knuckle still in her mouth, her face a mask of fear until she could see for herself the room was empty except for the Riddick. Riddick, she reminded herself. Then her persona fell off her like water.

"Not worried about the eyes and ears anymore?" Riddick cocked his head at her and his sarcasm was very sharp.

"It's not in the 'now'." She replied simply but it was still odd to hear her own voice. "Either there's cameras or there aren't. Either someone can access them or they cant. I'll deal with it when it becomes 'now'."

Riddick nodded. "I can respect that." He smiled; a different one than he used on the Witch. Genuine. Min found herself smiling back a little, a real one she hadn't used in awhile. It felt good.

Min moved to the wheeled silver cart by the door. "Where do you want to eat?" She flicked her head towards an elaborate dining room further in the suite. Riddick gave her a dubious look so she moved the cart to the sitting area and began off-loading covered dishes to the low table there. Riddick uncovered them.

"You couldn't order steak?"

"Min would never order steak, I'm afraid. Ferrin always ordered the fancy stuff for us. Since I ordered on my code..." She shrugged. "But you'll like this stuff."

"More surprises from Fury?" He looked around at the walls. The scene was quite different with the blue lenses up she knew, a little more intense from the digital enhancement, play of the light gave it more depth. A normal hologram would seem shadowy and flat looking at it with dark light lenses.

"If you were there, this is how it would really look." Min told him as she served herself and sat down. "But the food isn't from Furia. It's just appetizers I happen to like enough to eat for a meal."

Riddick was still staring at the walls and ceiling, caught midway putting the last of the covers on the tray. Min twitched her lenses up and shared the beauty with him for a moment, then took the covers from his hands put them on the floor beside her. "Sit down and eat, it's on a loop." She said quietly.

He did but his eyes kept wandering back to the walls and ceiling. She followed his looks though she knew the scene by heart. The big armored cats made another appearance and insects buzzed by. He ate absently and she knew he was trying to drop his blue lenses to compare the view. Min stayed silent and just enjoyed showing off something no one else could appreciate as she did. Even her Ferrin had tired of it, or it had become too painful to revisit. She wasn't sure which; they had talked less and less the last few years.

"It's beautiful." He finally said in a flat, distant tone she couldn't interpret. But it wasn't sarcasm and it wasn't anger so she didn't comment. He turned his head to look at her and she saw he'd managed to get his lenses down on his own. She dropped hers and looked back at him in the dim light.

"You've been there?" He asked in the same flat tone.

"I don't remember it." She told him. "And it's gone now." She didn't think she needed to tell him the obvious. The 'Mongers had destroyed it like so many others. And her Ferrin had been a part of it. An old familiar knot tied in her stomach when she thought of it. So she pushed the thoughts away, blanked her mind and her face and started clearing the table of empty dishes. She thought of her cats instead; luminous eyes and stealthy bodies, armored and hard except in the few places they loved to get scratched. She pocketed a few tidbits in anticipation of sneaking up to their barred lair for a visit and a good cry.

Riddick was staring at her again. "Plan on being hungry later?" He sounded amused and it grated on her. She was starting to feel a need to be alone. She'd gotten used to being invisible, even to her Ferrin. The constant scrutiny was becoming unbearable after an evening of stress. She didn't know what to say to this strange man who had killed... She had to stop this train of thinking. Min put her hands down to her sides and closed her eyes. She recited an old poem about the armored cats in her native tongue in her mind. Riddick said something but she ignored him.

"Tiger, tiger burning bright..." she started once more but this time in the common tongue. Had Ferrin said once that the poem wasn't a Furyan creation but seemed too right for their largest native predator not to christen it with it? She couldn't remember now, and maybe that was a good thing. She leveled her breathing and relaxed her muscles. Better Min, better, she thought.

When she opened her eyes Riddick was standing, looking intently into her face with his dark light lenses up.

"You cracking up on me?" His voice was part menace, part challenge.

Min blinked. "Not today." She looked down at her hands and the two halves of the dish she'd broken. "Ask me tomorrow."

"Good." He turned away, "because I want to see Kyra before they take her down to the planet. I want to see her buried."


	8. Kyra

**Kyra**

* * *

They were lucky, Min mused, that Dame Vaako never took defeat lying down. When Min queried about the status of Kyra's body and learned it was still on board the ship pending burial details, despite the new Marshall's order to send it to the planet, Min knew it was Dame Vaako. Commander Vaako would have been expedient. It was Dame Vaako's idea to make it expansive.

Vaako had been busy in the few hours Min and Riddick had been secluded in the Lord Marshal's suite, making up for her stunt in the throne room. It didn't matter that everyone knew what she had done, tried to do, as long as they didn't speak of it then it didn't exist. What they would speak of, what they would remember, was the elaborate funeral Dame Vaako organized for the girl of the Lord Marshal. It didn't matter if she was sister, daughter or lover: she had been favored. And Dame Vaako planned to ride the coattails of that favored status to keep the position of First among the Lords.

Scout ships had been sent back to the planet to find the perfect place to memorialize Kyra and the whole planet had been ordered into mourning. Kyra's body had been prepared like a bride's, encased in a cryo-coffin and put on display in the throne room. Lords and Ladies were ordered to file past.

As Min filled Riddick in on the details, including the ones she merely suspected he snorted.

"Does she really think this will save her ass from me?"

"Oh, yes," Min smiled evilly. "And you should let her get away with it."

Riddick tipped his head back and looked down on Min for a moment. "It'll really piss off the other Lords." He spoke slowly. "I like it."

"Mmm hmm" Min's expression didn't change to show the surprise she felt that he caught on so quickly, but she was impressed. Keeping the Lords at each other's throats would keep them off theirs. And Min would enjoy watching Dame Vaako dodge assassination attempts for awhile. For however long Riddick was planning on staying, anyway. But that wasn't 'now'. Now was going to see this Kyra, and now might be going down to the planet. Now there was a distraction!

Should 'now' include telling Riddick than Min had talked to the girl before she died? Before she had been cleansed?

"Are you ready?" Riddick seemed impatient.

Had he asked her that already? You're losing it sweetheart, a voice piped up but she ignored it.

Instead Min nodded and dropped back into character. She led the way without any of her simpleton chatter. She let herself tremble in the presence of all the Lords and Ladies but it was the planet she was thinking of. She'd never been off the ship that she could remember. Every planet the 'Mongers had encountered they had destroyed. Her Ferrin had hoped one day to help her escape but there had been no place to escape to. Now, Mecca had been spared and she might be able to go down with the funeral procession!

At the throne room Riddick sent everyone away, including guards and the annoyingly smug Dame Vaako until no one remained but Min, who played invisible in the shadows as usual. Riddick stood immobile over the cryo-casket a moment. Min hoped he realized that there were always eyes and ears in this room and the Vaakos were undoubtedly watching closely. She hoped he wouldn't reveal his new ability to retract his blue lenses; it would make them wonder too much. But he kept his head down.

He reached a hand up to his face and Min knew he was trying to drop his dark light lenses again. She willed him to relax and be patient but she couldn't help him. Finally he laid his palms flat against the casket and just stared into the dead face below him. The first time he had actually seen that face, she guessed. And the last.

"I didn't mean to lie to you," he whispered so softly she doubted the electronic ears would pick it up. "I told you to stay on New Mecca."

Min looked at the floor and waited patiently. A sound drew her eyes back to the center of the room. Riddick opened the casket and was reaching into it. Min walked over in her ambling way, as if by coincidence finding herself there. "Poor girl, poor girl," she murmured. She glanced his way. He was holding goggles. When they removed the body they must have found the goggles and assumed they were hers. But Min knew now how he had managed to live his whole life with blue lenses up when he put them on. Then he sealed the casket again and headed for the doors without speaking.

Min followed similarly.


	9. Planet Bound

**Planet Bound**

* * *

Dame Vaako was waiting for them. Well, waiting for Riddick. She only spared a hateful glare at Min before diving into all the beautiful details she had concocted for the funeral. Flowers and candles were being delivered to the site, the ship was ready, the whole planet mourning the death, a procession or Lords and Ladies to accompany them. No, she didn't know this Riddick very well, Min mused. But the sucking up was nearly worth a giggle out loud.

Riddick ordered the casket moved to a ship. He would pilot it himself. Vaako was obviously worried he wouldn't come back now that she'd hitched her reputation to his. She insisted he needed guards and Min was actually surprised when he accepted them. Min didn't figure he would go to the planned burial site so perhaps he intended them to dig a new one. The population was likely to defile any memorial created by the 'Mongers once they'd left.

Min led Riddick to the 'port and followed him docilely inside with her heart thumping in her chest. Planet bound! She didn't think Riddick planned to abdicate his position this way, too much chance the 'Mongers would simply destroy the planet and figure out who would lead them later. She also hoped the Vaakos realized their position of power wasn't solidified enough for them to risk killing him on the way down. If they wanted to survive they had to have Riddick's back, like it or not. The whole mess made Min want to laugh out loud.

Sane people don't laugh at death staring them in the face, a voice whispered. That made her want to laugh even more. Sure they do, she whispered back, and for a moment she wasn't certain it hadn't been out loud. But it didn't matter, she was in character now; talking to herself was expected. And she was comfortably invisible again, no one, even Riddick, was paying the least bit of attention to her. He was readying the ship. Min looked on passively while the coffin was loaded. "Poor girl, poor girl."

Doors closed, the coffin was secured and guards were strapping themselves in while the engines roared when she felt a hand on her arm. "Sit here." Riddick told her kindly, and he buckled her into a passenger seat near the cockpit. If she leaned forward a little she could see out the front screens. The other men rolled their eyes at each other at his consideration. They were ready to let her bounce around the cabin. The dirtier the better, she thought to herself. Now Riddick would bear the label 'peculiar'. She couldn't thank him out loud but she did avoid being particularly annoying by just sitting quietly and looking at her hands.

When he was done fastening and adjusting her straps Riddick lifted her chin and looked into her face for a moment. "You ready for this?" He asked her. There was concern in his face again and it made her uncomfortable. She looked away and nodded her head once. She couldn't tell him how hard her heart was pounding to be so close to freedom. If the 'now' permitted it, she might not take the return flight; he didn't need her to rule the 'Mongers or even escape them later. But she wished she could say thank you or goodbye or good luck.

Crouching down in front of her, head cocked to one side as if he could hear her anyway, he pitched his voice very low and said, "Good luck." She risked a quick glance back into his face and an even quicker nod, then he was gone back to the cockpit and strapping himself in.

The ride down was smooth until they hit atmosphere. Min had never experience turbulence before, that she could remember, and it made her a bit queasy. The view was amazing enough to distract her from her physical reactions and she enjoyed it as much as watching Riddick move smoothly across the tiny bridge deck at work. She had never learned to pilot, how would her Ferrin have explained that?

She'd guessed right about the burial site. They finally landed on an under populated part of the planet, which caused some grumbling from the guards behind her. There was no fanfare, no mourning crowds, and no light duty. Riddick informed them they were going to dig her grave and then forget its location and anyone was welcome to share the spot for eternity if they didn't cooperate. Once they were busy un-strapping and unloading the coffin, Riddick returned to Min to un-belt her.

"There's a town a night's walk from here, follow the sunset." He spoke quietly, then left her before she could whisper thank you.

Min stood on shaky legs and looked through the front screen. It was incredibly bright outside, incredibly flat and barren to her eyes. She'd always pictured a planet full of trees, like her wall scenery but she couldn't turn down the gift presented to her. She had a full stomach and the extra meat rolls she'd intended for her cats. She'd miss them. She'd miss her Ferrin. But this was the chance he'd always wanted for her. This was her chance.

Min turned towards the open back of the ship. She probably didn't need to be invisible now. The guards wouldn't chase her down if Riddick didn't command them to and frankly they were too busy to watch her. The town wouldn't know she was from the 'Mongers, she didn't dress like them. She would just be a stranger. All she had to do was leave, wander off, wait for sunset and make her way to town and survive. Now.

Min walked down the ramp, shading her eyes from the bright sun until they adjusted. At the bottom she stopped and put her hand down. Vertigo hit her hard. The sky was too bright and too big, she felt like she would fly off into it. Her knees buckled and she fell forward into the sand and felt worse. The ground was too soft! It wouldn't hold her, it wouldn't hold her down! She looked up again, at the horizon and felt utter panic; she would tumble off the edge! Her hands scrambled for purchase but there was nothing solid to hold onto! She heard screaming and that frightened her even more. Then darkness came.

She felt herself lifted up and panicked in the blackness, flailing around for purchase. She heard someone say from very far away, "She's agoraphobic, poor kid." And then there was blessed nothingness.


	10. Gilded Cage

**The Gilded Cage**

* * *

From far away in the dark she could hear voices; echo-y, disembodied voices:

"What's she sayin'?"

"I dunno, all I can make out is 'Ferrin'"

"Stupid git and her gobbledy-gook."

"Go tell Lord Riddick she's wakin' up."

Ferrin! Ferrin! I can't find you, why did you leave me, Ferrin? Why can't I see you, Ferrin?

"Min...?"

Ferrin, I can't move, help me!

"Min!" That voice was familiar, who was it? "Min, Poise!"

Fuck!

'Poise' had been a tool. It let her not be so crazy all the time, it let her listen quietly, it was their code word for 'pay attention, this bit is important.' And it gave the 'Mongers that feeling of power over her that they needed to not be so completely annoyed with her presence that they demanded her Ferrin just get rid of her. But this voice had never used it in the few short hours she had come to know it. Where the hell was she...

Min's eyes snapped open and her mouth snapped shut. Riddick. The planet. The damned unnaturally flat planet that... Min's stomach tightened. Well, he didn't look mad, and fortunately he didn't have that compassionate look on his face that would have made her cry right now. Crying would have been in character but she really didn't want to right now.

No, he had that challenging look on his face as when he had asked her, 'Are you cracking up on me?'

"Not today," she whispered and put her head back against the seat she was strapped into. "Ask me tomorrow." Min closed her eyes. She heard Riddick move away and start shouting at the back of the little ship. The nice hard ship with floors that didn't give way under her, and a ceiling that wouldn't let her fly off, and nice firm walls. Don't you cry, woman, don't you dare, she shouted inside her head. Don't you dare!

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright... she recited the poem over and over again until she felt calm.

When the work crew was finished and loaded back in they took off. Min kept her eyes closed and her body still and Riddick didn't speak to her at all as she was already buckled in. The ride was bumpy until it was smooth but Min didn't watch this time. Tiger, Tiger, burning bright...

The 'Mongers didn't fire on them as they returned so the Vaakos must be smarter than she gave them credit for and death wasn't going to give her freedom either. Tiger, Tiger, burning bright...

Riddick released her straps after they had landed and she let her eyes open but wouldn't look into his. Tiger, Tiger, burning bright...

He put out a hand to help her up and since she did feel wobbly in the knees she took it but kept her eyes on the floor and hands at her sides until he turned and led the way out. Tiger, Tiger, burning bright...

You really will go mad now, girl, the voice whispered.

Tiger, Tiger, burning bright! She shouted back in her head.

Dame Vaako met them with a barrage of questions but Riddick quelled her quickly by saying, "Commander Vaako is still First Lord," and walked away from her. Min just followed.

Riddick didn't know his way around the ship but he had a good enough memory to head confidently in the right direction. Min still followed but kept lagging behind. She wanted to split off and go to her own suite where she knew there were no eyes and she could just curl up and cry herself to sleep. She didn't want any company except later perhaps the company of her tigers, safe behind their bars. But Riddick seemed to have eyes in the back of his head and when she fell too far behind he would stop and turn towards her.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Finally, at the last intersection she could turn down she just stopped and waited for him to come back. After a moment he did. Now she led them, silent and dejected, to the suite she had shared with her Ferrin for more than half her life. The suite where she had been happy and protected for a time, but was now, none the less, just a gilded cage. Tiger, Tiger, burning bright...


	11. Daddy's Girl

**Daddy's Girl**

* * *

Min stopped at her door and wondered how long these rooms would be left to her. Would the Vaakos try for the more prestigious suite? She put her hand to the door pad and was thankful she wasn't yet locked out. Riddick followed her in.

"Lock," she said. The rooms were dark but Min didn't call for lights, she only twitched up her lenses and moved silently through the apartment running a checklist through her mind: need it, don't need it, want it, don't want it, need it... Riddick stayed quiet and far enough behind her to not be a distraction. She could hear him picking up and putting down items but she ignored him.

"This is where you lived with him?"

Min was irritated by his intrusion. "Yes." Her tone did not invite further comment.

"For how long?" He had asked her this before and she was tempted to parrot her childish answer but she didn't want to play games with him.

"I was 11 or 12 when he found me on the breeder ship with my mother." She hoped that would end it. She was efficiently gathering objects she intended to keep with her. Riddick followed her into the bedroom where she dropped them onto the bed and moved to the closet.

"Twelve?" His voice was low and harsh and full of scorn. She just ignored him. "And you loved him?" It was less a question than an accusation.

Min stopped at a uniform that she brought to her face. Her throat was tight with suppressed emotion. "Of course," she rasped out, not following his train of thought and not really caring.

"Tears for a pedophile?" Riddick's voice was full of scorn.

Min caught her breath and rounded on him, tears in her eyes still un-spilled. "Ferrin means father in our language. Min means girl. He wouldn't use my real name in front of the 'Mongers. Everything was a pretense. Everything he did was to protect me!" She was exasperated; the man who picked up the subtleties of politics completely missed the subtleties of personal relationships? "And you," she was angry now, a feeling she hadn't let herself have yet. "You killed him." Her voice trailed off into a harsh whisper.

"I didn't kill him." Did his voice have a hint of sorrow in it? "He killed himself."

Something clicked for Min, his reaction to her saying to him, 'you keep what you kill,' she thought he was hiding something. She had meant to dig for it later, had distantly hoped it meant her father wasn't really dead but left behind on that hell planet. She hadn't let herself think on it then, it wasn't the 'now'.

'Now' she had to think on it, and come to terms with not just death but suicide. Her father had left her, abandon. And the 'now' included the knowledge that she couldn't leave the ship, she couldn't escape. Tiger, Tiger... Stop that! She wasn't going to go insane, she wasn't going to crack up. She was going to survive.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

Min took a deep breath. She wasn't mad at Riddick, or even her father. She was deeply weary, maybe more tired than sad. She felt too dry for tears. She could cry... later...

"He kept me on this ship of death, I kept him in this life." She heard herself saying. "I guess he had to escape me first." Riddick, thankfully, didn't say anything. She wanted to say more, she wanted to talk about all the things she could never share with anyone else. But she was afraid that once started she'd never stop, like the tears.

She wanted to tell someone about how she had seen her mother again all those years ago, and how the cleansing had ruined her mind completely. That her mother had wanted to reveal Min's secret and her father's betrayal to the 'Mongers and Min had killed her. Min had survived.

She wanted to tell someone about the guilt her father had harbored for all the destruction he had caused, the pain and anger he had hidden from everyone but her. She wanted to say that she forgave her father for what he had done then and now. Min would survive.

She wanted to talk about what to do next, what her future might hold and how she might make it better, even though it wasn't the 'now' yet. She wanted to talk about how she will survive.

But they just stood silently in the dark together for a few minutes instead.

Min moved from the closet to the bed and gathered the few things she had dropped there. "This is all I need." She told him with a note of finality. "Let's go."

In the Lord Marshall's suite Min wandered the suite again, this time with her gadget. It looked like a puzzle cube with colored lights, but it was a fairly sophisticated device of her own design. And they did find cameras, but they seemed to all lead back to the bedroom. The previous Marshall had wanted personal surveillance. They were all turned off. Min breathed a sigh of relief.

Min avoided Riddick, she didn't want to talk, she wanted to clean up and sleep. He didn't seem to be the overly talkative type anyway. That suited her. He seemed to pick up on her mood and left the suite on some mission of his own. That suited Min too.

She took a shower and indulged in the crying she had been putting off all these long hours. She cried out every thing of all these long years and felt empty. She wondered briefly before she fell asleep in the old Marshall's oversized bed what she would fill up the rest of her life with.

**End Part One**


	12. What Dread Grasp

**What Dread Grasp**

* * *

Min woke the next morning knowing the suite was still empty, Riddick hadn't returned. That was all right. She figured he was examining the teeth of the tiger he had by the tail. Min had work to do too.

First she ordered breakfast. Steak! She ordered two in case he showed up, but if not it would be a better treat than meat rolls for her cats. Then she got into the computer.

Most Faster-Than-Light ships auto downloaded satellite news at every planet they visited, the 'Monger's were no exception. She called up all the info she could on Riddick: Bounties, mostly, and his criminal records, a few psych profiles. Nothing to indicate he was Furyan. No real history. Origin Earth? That was interesting.

Psych profiles included IQ tests. Some showed genius scores, some showed a 64. Must have depended on his mood, she thought. Diagnosis ranged from sociopathic psychopath to merely antisocial. She mentally shrugged, must have depended on his mood again. Either way he added up to smart, loner, rebel. Not exactly cult leader material.

So he wasn't likely to ride this tiger. Then how would he let go without getting bit?

Hamstring it, of course.

Could be fun watching him do that, but then where would she be? Bat her eyelashes and coo 'take me with you'? She didn't think she could say it and doubted even more that he'd do it. He was willing to give her her chance, but she'd blown it. She was supposed to walk on her own. He'd come to rescue the girl but she'd been so young: daughter or little sister; some kind of history there.

But rescue the maiden material? Not likely.

So she had to rescue herself and she'd give him the same chance he'd given her: to just walk away. But she'd been riding the tiger a long time; this was HER tiger now.

Okay, that was decided, now how?

Mythology and power drove this killing machine.

'What hand dare seize the fire? On what wings dare I aspire?'

Radical, crazy thinking there, Min. Sure you haven't gone mad?

Shut up, I'm busy.

Mythology and power...

Mythology...

Min searched the computer for Fury, Furyan, Furyans. Not much. Thirty years since the 'Mongers destroyed the home world and before that not a lot of galactic history. Antisocial bunch. Or the previous Marshall had erased it. Paranoid Elemental freak. He did make great mythology though; she had to hand it to him. And a great blueprint for power.

It's crazy, Min.

Shush! It's just survival.

Breakfast arrived. And shortly thereafter so did Riddick.

"Good morning," she greeted him cheerfully. He looked like he hadn't slept and wasn't in the mood for cheerfulness.

"You're feeling better." He grumbled.

"Yes, I've just been figuring out how to kill you and become Lord Marshal." Her voice was chipper as she laid out dishes in the elaborate dining area. This caused a raised eyebrow from Riddick.

"I thought you said you couldn't kill me," he mused as he followed his nose.

"Well," she conceded, "not without your help of course. Come have breakfast."


	13. Shush

**Shush**

* * *

Min was surprised by his laugh. It was deep, booming and genuinely mirthful. She decided she liked it.

"Why do we have to go to all the trouble? I'm already Lord Marshal, I can just give you a ship and send you where you want to go."

"A ship I can't pilot and to where, exactly? Everyplace I've ever been is destroyed, the only thing I know is this..." She waved a hand. She didn't need to mention her bizarre reaction to finally hitting dirt side. "Besides, you don't want to stay here and be Marshall."

"You think you know me?" His voice, which she decided she liked too, was both full of humor and challenge.

Stop that, Min, liking him is not part of the equation.

Min shrugged. "It doesn't have to happen now. When you get bored, let me know." Her voice was lightly facetious and challenging in it's own right.

He stopped eating a moment to look at her sideways. She ignored him.

"But we should still work on building your mythology." She said finally.

"Mythology?" He sounded almost offended. Almost. Good. He might not take as much convincing as she feared.

"Mythology and power. You've already got the power. If you want to keep it you need some mythology." She was surprised that he seemed to consider this, but he made no comment. At first.

"I think being legendary isn't good for my lifestyle."

"Leaving so soon?" Min kept her voice light and her eyes on her plate. He laughed again, loudly, and she was glad to hear it. Don't be glad! What are you thinking?

I'm thinking I'm not a little girl anymore, now shush. He has a nice laugh.

Nice for a psychopath, you mean?

Shush.

"What did you have in mind?" His voice was full of amusement.

She turned to look into his face. He had his lenses up. Habit, perhaps. Or it just felt more natural to him after all these years. She decided she liked... Stop it! Don't you dare!

'In what distant deeps or skies, burnt the fire of thine eyes?'

Min only had an inkling of an idea so far. She explained her thinking to him, who they should target and why it would work. He laughed in all the right places and she nearly blushed with pleasure.

Nearly.

She thought there might be more to do later, but this would be a good start. Rumors needed time and politics was slow business. That is, when not taking power by ascension.

But first he needed sleep, and she had more work to do.

She had Furyans to find.

He never asked her why she wanted power. He never asked her what she planed on doing with an armada. She thought that might come later. Or maybe he already guessed.

That was another thing she liked about him...

Shush!


	14. Accident or Fate

**Accident or Fate?**

* * *

Min had spent many hours alone growing up. She'd learned things about the 'Mongers most of them didn't know. Some of it she had saved to hidden files, encrypted ones, and deleted the public links. Some of it she had hacked from other's encrypted files. Some of it she had intuited.

Like the Lord Marshal being a renegade Elemental. She guessed he had figured the odds of someone being able to take over the galaxy, and decided it might as well be him. Other Elementals had been on board before, but she never saw one leave. The Witch, Aereon, was the only one she'd seen twice, once as a little girl back on the breeder ship. The Witch had been interested in the Furyans there.

Which meant she knew too much about Furyans. Which meant Min needed to learn what she knew. But that would be later... right now...

Min looked up service records. She was looking for particular indications: age, rank, and specifically the time of enlistment. Not many soldiers in the lower ranks of the 'Mongers lived to be old. She didn't find many in the upper ranks either. And even less, a handful, of minor lords, captains, who fit the exact time she was looking for.

The date Fury was invaded.

She saved those files... then altered the dates.

The captains she was now looking at were solid, dependable... and invisible. Nothing in their files indicated anything unusual, nothing too outstanding, nothing extraordinary. Except they had passed on promotions... all of them. Two of them had served together, and requested transfers. They all held the same rank now, in separate companies, did their jobs well... and stayed invisible.

Min studied the pattern of promotions and transfers, then altered it slightly. Those men would find themselves transferred to the flagship over the next weeks. And while no one else would be suspect of the natural order of things, she wondered if they would notice. She hoped so.

Next she delved into the breeder ship computers. She wasn't as hopeful here. The cleansing was altered on Furyan women, and it proved to be both effective and devastating. She had seen the results with her own eyes as a child.

Furyan women were encouraged to go to the birthing rooms, which they all knew were just laboratories, and so most kept their imminent labor a secret. But Furyan women who gave birth to boys found themselves compelled to strangle them. And the next morning many went mad with grief, or threw themselves from the top levels to their death rather than face life with such a thing buried in their heads. Women who were caught before labor and escorted to the labs were relieved of their boy children without knowing their fate.

It made her wonder about Riddick's origin being Earth. Were there Furyan immigrants on earth? Or had some escaped that far? The 'Mongers hadn't yet gone to Earth, paranoid and trigger happy about their planet, the Lord Marshal had simply ignored it out of prudence. She decided to search that out later.

Meanwhile, the breeder ship files were all encrypted, each of the scientists hiding their experiments and results from each other. Much of it in such scientific jargon that it made little sense to Min when she did crack a code. But the gist was horrifying enough that she was glad not to have to visualize the details. The Lord Marshal was interested in breeding superior soldiers. Not terribly original, she thought, history was full of such failed schemes. But the results affected her personally.

Min had been born on Fury, brought to the breeder ship with her mother as an infant. She'd spent a decade living in prison like conditions in a cell with her mother and learning to avoid the guards and cameras when possible. Societal breakdown under those circumstances made the place chaotic and violent. Children weren't subject to the cleansing until puberty. Min's father had rescued her just before that time.

Just after that time, she discovered, Furyan women and girls were rounded up. Most were put into suspension, even babies.

Many became laboratory experiments in genetics, and advanced cleansing techniques. Her mother was on that list. She and the others were then sent out to the ships of the armada as servants.

And spies.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Min copied the list of moles. Someone had been looking for other hidden Furyans all those years ago. The list of men hidden in the ranks and ferreted out by these mind wiped women... it scared her to think how close she had come to being one of those victims. How close she had come to betraying her father to her own mother. But it didn't take away the pain of having killed her. Nothing would.

Some of those women were still active on the ships. So many men had died because they had revealed themselves to someone they thought they could trust. The Five, the captains she had searched out, they hadn't fallen into the trap. Accident or fate? Or had they suspected? They couldn't have known for sure, their rank did not give them that kind of intelligence.

But her father must have known.

Did he know these men? Did they know about her?

She couldn't expunge those files, the scientists were still actively updating them. But she had the list. That would have to be enough for now.

At some point she would have to arrange for those scientists to die. The moles too.

And the Witch.

And all Elementals.


	15. Switching Gears

**Switching Gears**

* * *

Min changed gears. The 'Monger's databases were enormous; containing everything they had uploaded from the planets they destroyed. It was messy to search, nothing connected to anything else. That was a good thing though, it meant she could copy and delete anything she found without it being missed. She looked for Earth news from 30 years ago. Self-important upstarts in galactic history, they sent their news everywhere in the assumption someone, somewhere, cared. Now someone did.

She found nothing to do with Furyans. In thirty years the word never appeared. Fury was mentioned once, in passing, relative to it's demise at the hands of the 'Mongers. Earth debated briefly amongst its nations about getting involved as more planets fell, but passed defense initiatives instead. 'Let 'em try that shit here' was their response as they increased their military 1000 fold across the board. It served them well, she supposed, and she rather liked their attitude. Earthlings understood power and mythology. When not warring with other empires they practiced amongst themselves.

She switched gears again, looking for Riddick, specifically.

'Nine-Year-Old Convicted Of Murder.'

Headline news, all right.

'Richard Bennet Riddick was convicted today of the stabbing death of his legal guardian, 68 year old Bennita Abrianna Riddick, in her home in the Lower West Side, New Chicago, of the United American Conglomerate. Riddick becomes the youngest juvenile sentenced to an adult penitentiary in that state in 20 years. He will join others in the new underground SuperMax prison opened in that state this year dubbed Murderer's Row by locals. Yankee's fans call foul.'

Cold-blooded killer? Psychopath? Something wasn't adding up. None of those names were Furyan, who was Bennita Abrianna Riddick? And why did Riddick kill her?

Min searched more broadly.

The Lower West Side was apparently not a nice place to grow up in. Min started to notice a pattern. Children, not the locals who knew Bennita Abrianna Riddick and sung her praises at Riddick's trial as the neighborhood grandmother who had treated them all so well, but transient children, had been disappearing in that area for years. She found article after article about 'street kids' gone missing and the authorities that had no leads.

Authorities who were cracking down on crime around the spaceport in 'New Chicago' had no time to look for children who probably just moved on with their transient parents, the articles bemoaned.

Then, the articles on that subject stopped almost entirely.

Min went back and re-counted. Between 15 and 25 children a year, depending on the news source, had been disappearing for over a decade... the same length of time the spaceport had been operational.

Min's intuitiveness leapt to one simple conclusion: slave trade.

Slavers avoided the 'Mongers. The 'Mongers had more than once 'confiscated' slaver ships in space and added their contents to the breeder ship and laboratory roles. Almost always children of varying heritage, almost always orphans.

It didn't explain how a Furyan ended up as far away as Earth. Or how he ended up in the hands of a black market slave trader in the guise of a friendly neighborhood grandmother. It did explain a Furyan with the unlikely name of Richard Bennet Riddick.

And it explained how Riddick himself ended up in prison so young.

Had he figured out what she was doing? Or had he simply gotten big enough to sell? Or both?

Min went back and searched the public record of his trial. It was never mentioned. Apparently he never said a word to anyone during his trial. It had saved him from execution; the judge felt he was incapacitated in some way and not responsible for his actions. Not that it saved him. The rest of his convictions were murders that took place in various prisons after he had been sent into space as part of a labor crew and escaped. His recapture record got spotty over the years as he got better at what he did best.

He survived.

She smiled to herself. She definitely liked this man.

The voice in her head was silent for once.


	16. Zemma

**Zemma**

* * *

So the voice behind her made her jump. Then grind her teeth for being caught unawares.

"So, you think you know me, now?"

Sarcasm. Irritation. And that old favorite, the challenge.

How long had she been so engrossed in the computer? Her stomach rumbled in answer.

Min shrugged. "I know your name now." She kept her voice light, downplaying what was essentially her spying on him as inconsequential. How long had he been back there watching her? She didn't turn around but added, "Riddick isn't a Furyan name," by means of explanation.

"What is?" Cold voice, angry... but he was offering her a chance to square it. He wanted her name. Not MinFerrin, not 'daddy's girl,' but her real name. Min felt her stomach roll over slowly as she remembered the very last time she had said her name out loud: 'Momma, it's me, it's Zemma...'

"...Zemma Enan W'neta." She still didn't turn to face him. She spoke softly, feeling guilty, and waited for his reaction.

"Pleased to meet you, Zemma." Forgiveness came with a soft voice and none of the earlier sarcasm or challenge. He'd accepted the olive branch.

She saved the files she had found, and deleted the originals from the database, before she turned to face him. No one else would be able to get this information.

When she turned around he was standing not far away, examining one of the few things she had decided she wanted from her old life. A tiny metal figurine of an armored cat with blue jewel chips inset for eyes.

"I gave orders for our next destination while you were asleep," he said offhandedly. "Does your zoo have room for two more armored cats?"

Min, as usual, covered her surprise. "Yes," she said simply. She was glad to talk about something other than her snooping and he seemed willing to drop it. "The 'Monger's didn't realize that the cats pair bond. The pair we have now wont have kits together. The queen tolerates the male they put in with her after her krugeri died but it might have been kinder to kill her too. She's been so sad." She hoped the two he intended to retrieve were pair bonded. "It would be nice to have kits again."

"I don't know if these two are male and female," he laughed, "I didn't look between their legs."

Min smiled at that; a real smile.

"If they pair bond, why don't you have two of these?"

Min didn't say, 'Because that bitch Lady Vaako stole it from me and squashed it under her heel to try to make me cry.' What she did say was, "I lost it." But something in her voice made him turn his head sharply towards her. Damn Riddick's perceptiveness! Damn hypersensitive freak. She held his gaze steadily but he didn't press.

Go on, say it, another thing you like about him. She ignored the voice.

"Would you like to meet them?" She asked, and didn't need to explain who 'they' were.

Riddick cocked his head sideways at her like he did when he seemed to catch what she was thinking. What was he catching now?

But all he said was, "Can we get there without anybody seeing us?"

"Of course." She answered and kept the perplexity from her voice.

"Good," he nodded. "I'm tired of everybody staring at me out there." He grumbled irritably.

Min smiled. They were both going to have to get used to it before long.


	17. Twenty Questions

**Twenty Questions**

* * *

Min opened the door to the suite and stepped into the hallway. She didn't move like an addled child this time as she turned slowly to face the guards. They ignored, as usual, her until she lifted her head from staring at the floor; her eyes were shining quicksilver blue. Before they could do more than register surprise, Riddick attacked them with Furyan speed from behind. They were unconscious before they could make a sound. Min was pleased with Riddick's control. She didn't want them dead, she wanted them talking later.

"The myth begins," she grinned at him.

Min led Riddick through the shadows, far enough away from the Marshall suite to avoid any hidden sensors. Then she produced a small tool that looked like a toy but fit perfectly into a recessed service panel keyhole. It had been an item on her need list. Min twitched her lenses up and led Riddick into the walls and bowels of the flagship.

The way was tricky, black and noisy. Not meant to be scaled and traversed except on the technicians' catwalks, which, of course, they avoided. At a particularly difficult obstacle Riddick suddenly asked:

"What's your deal with the Elemental?"

"She knows too much about Furyans." Min didn't skip a beat. "What's your deal with the girl?" She shot back over her shoulder.

"I saved her life once. She saved mine." He kept it simple but she thought there was more to it than that.

"How did a Furyan become the Purifier?"

Great, Min thought, twenty questions in the dark. She sighed.

"He was President of Fury when the 'Mongers came. We were a new democracy. He thought submission would save lives, spare the planet.

"He didn't understand politics then. He didn't understand about power...until later."

Now it was her turn.

"How did you end up on Earth?"

"I don't know." His low voice dropped a notch. Dissatisfaction. He really didn't know.

"Point for me," she told him. "My turn again." He grunted.

"What _do_ you know?"

Bitterly, "I was found in a trash bin with my umbilical cord around my neck."

Min paused. "Strangled?"

"Uh-uh, I answered, it's my turn." He closed that subject. But Min's mind was racing. Strangled? An escapee? After she'd been cleansed? She almost missed his next question.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

That made her stop and turn around. "Why?" She demanded.

Riddick stood facing her, eyes glittering in the dark. "Is that a point for me? Or do you always get to ask two?"

"No. Yes," she said, then clarified. "I've killed. My turn, why?" Could he really get into her head? Was there some myth she'd missed?

"There's going to be some killing in your plan." That challenge in his voice again. "Are you expecting me to do it all for you?"

"That's your turn," she quipped and turned away from him to lead the way again. "No, I'll have my share. I'll hold up my end. Besides, I get to kill you last, remember?"

He laughed behind her before following. "Fair enough. Your turn."

And most of my killing will come after you leave, she thought. I don't think you actually have mass murder in you and I have genocide in mind.

"How long do you really plan on staying in this mad house?" That was the loaded question; the one really on her mind.

"I haven't decided." He started, then before she could say anything, "That's not a point for you. You just have to accept that answer."

She laughed. "Okay. Fair enough. Your turn." They were almost there.

"Did you see Kyra when she came to the ship?"

Oops. She forgot to mention that before. She meant to but things were moving so fast. She stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Is that your question?"

She saw his body tense. This was not a conversation she wanted to have balanced precariously on a pipe forty stories from the nearest hard place to land; this was a sensitive subject to him. He wasn't playing now.

"Well?"

"I saw her when they took her to the cleansing room." Min paused but there was just light enough to see the muscles in his jaw were working overtime and she decided to continue. "I wandered in, they ignored me as usual. She was fighting mad and they were goading her on. The cleansing works best if they can get you worked up..."

"Go on." He sounded calm but the menace underneath was perfectly clear to her. And that was making her angry. She had no control over what happened to Kyra, she had tried to help...

"I tried to help her."

"How?" More obvious menace now.

Min crossed her arms, she'd already seen her escape route if he became unreasonable. She knew this area by heart and figured she was fast enough if she got a jump on him.

"She was going on about you, but I didn't know who she was talking about. One of the techs said her Furyan was dead or she wouldn't be here. She started to cry..."

"No way Kyra cried." Threat in his voice.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

"She was strung up, they were pumping her full of drugs, she saw the armada when they came in. Of course she cried! Everyone cries!" Min's voice was raised now in exasperation. "I put my arms around her and said 'poor girl' until the techs turned around and I whispered in her ear how to beat the cleansing."

"You... you can beat the cleansing?"

"That's fourteen."

"What?"

"That's fifteen."

He grumbled low in his throat. It wasn't quite a growl, not quite a laugh; more like a realization that she was trying to break the tension and he hadn't decided if he would let it work. But he didn't say anything more, just stared levelly at her. Min decided he had himself under control.

"Yes, to some extent you can beat the cleansing." Min's voice dropped back to conversational level. "It's not something anyone figures out on their own. The techs make it almost impossible unless you've got excellent self-control...

"So I told her, 'the techs want you mad, if you want to beat this, relax.' And then I did something really stupid."

"What?"

"Sixteen!" She said quietly in her little girl voice. That almost got a smile out of him. Almost. Min continued quickly, "I held her face in my hands and got very close and... I... twitched up my lenses."

Min was embarrassed. She had taken a huge risk, doing that, but the girl... Min hadn't known if the girl herself was Furyan but the effect was what Min hoped it would be.

"Your Kyra was smart. She didn't say anything. She kept up her screaming at the techs but I could see she had calmed down." Min took a step forward and laid her hand on Riddick's arm. "She had a lot of self control. She came out of the cleansing better than I thought she would. She was a good girl." Min hoped it was enough.

"She was tough." He said finally.

Min had seen the girl as they were walking her to the throne room too. Min had danced up and hugged the girl and whispered 'pretend' as she slipped her a knife. It was all she could do. She still didn't know why she had taken the risks. Min didn't want to think on it.

You wanted a friend, the voice in the back of her head blurted out. You saw something in her and you wanted to save her.

But did I kill her? She asked the voice. Did giving her that knife kill her?

The voice didn't answer.

"Are we close?" Riddick broke the silence.

Seventeen. Min thought, but she didn't continue the game. They both had thoughts weighing on them and one more climb to focus on. Min turned and led the way.


	18. Awkward Silence

**Awkward Silence**

* * *

The armored cats lived in as much luxury as a star ship could allot. Min led Riddick to their nighttime kennels, where they stayed when not on display. Servants cleaned the front at night and the back in the day, with solid doors between the two. They wouldn't be disturbed; the servants avoided anything like contact with the cats.

"They called these Hell Hounds on Crematoria."

Min laughed lightly. "No. They're cats. Dogs prefer to pack, and follow a pack leader. Cats are solitary by nature, and these cats only join up with the same mate each year for breeding. Lots of animals on Fury pair bonded." She opened the door and walked in without fear.

"Nik died last year. This is Nor, the queen." Min stopped and rubbed the armored cat in one of her few soft places, along the edge of her mouth. The cat opened her mouth open and rumbled contentedly. Min examined her teeth, then patted her on the head and made a gesture.

"Roll over, Nor."

The cat moved slowly, as if considering the request before actually obeying it. Min scratched her soft belly and spoke to her quietly. Another cat, the male, approached Min from behind as if stalking her. Out of the corner of her eye Min could see Riddick just following its progress. Save the maiden? Bah! Min rolled and let the male pounce in the middle of Nor, who flipped him and had him pinned by the neck the next moment.

Min laughed and patted Nor on the side. "Let Mab up, Nor, he's just a baby." The cat relinquished her hold but looked put out. "This is Mab," she told Riddick. "It means 'little boy'."

Riddick crouched down to look at the animals from their level. Nor ignored him, instead laying at Min's feet and snuffing at her boots. But Mab crouched and approached the Furyan, stalking again. Riddick held his ground and the cat's eye. Min waited to see what would happen. She had trained the oversized kit to obey a few commands, to call him off when he played too rough mostly, but she was interested in how Riddick handled him. Save the hero? Bah!

Riddick did that thing with his head when she almost thought he was getting into hers. Not that she needed another voice in there! The kit stopped and looked at him, turning his head too. Cute. The big baby hadn't been in contact with anyone but her most of his life but she had treated him well and he had no reason to fear or hate. He just didn't understand. Was this a toy? Prey? Or another adult who would knock him around if he played too hard?

Min guessed the latter, and smiled to herself.

Mab must have too, he put his head down and butted up against Riddick's leg, saying 'I'm just a baby, don't hurt me.' Cat language was all in the body language and she had sharpened her skills of observation on them over the years. Riddick smiled one of his few genuine smiles and patted little boy on the side with a couple hard whacks. The kit rolled over for him and waited for his scratch. Riddick obliged him and Min smiled outwardly.

It was nice to have a friend to share this with.

You weren't thinking friend earlier, you were thinking about...

So?

So, he's a temporary distraction.

They spent an hour with the cats, not saying much to each other. Min felt relaxed and happy playing with her babies, but tried not to look at Riddick too much, just to keep the voice in her head quiet. She ran them through their commands and threw the ball for Mab to chase. She told Riddick that Nor meant 'little queen' or 'old lady' depending on context, but it was a term of endearment. Nik was a foreshortened use of the term 'husband', a kind of slang used only with familiarity.

He asked her simple, polite questions about her pets and she answered them readily enough. It was a brief respite, something neither one of them quite knew what to do with it, she thought.

The second time Riddick looked towards the door they'd come in Min patted Nor goodbye.

She was hungry anyway.


	19. Mythos and Mayhem

**Mythos and Mayhem**

* * *

Min had time to think back on that pleasant hour they'd spent with her cats a week or so later. She had been trapped for hours in the vent egress they'd used to get into the cats' lair while servants cleaned the nighttime kennel. She couldn't climb down the back way with a broken arm.

Her Ferrin did not teach her enough! Not enough to face a pissed off fighting man, a Furyan, in a locked room anyway! Riddick had obviously held back because he had been curious about her those first hours. This first captain to get transferred to the flagship obviously had not. He thought she was another mole.

Min took a deep breath and clenched her teeth at the pain. Broken ribs too maybe? Great.

Things had been going well enough.

They had been revealing her eyes to some of the lower ranks, and the rumors had been what she expected. No one thought she was a Furyan, they thought she was possessed, by Riddick. She had been quiet and meek still but had dropped the little girl who talks to walls bit. The Lords weren't sure what to make of the change Riddick had brought about in her. They were hearing the rumors too but Min hadn't revealed her eyes to any of them yet.

Until they got to Crematoria.

Riddick had wanted to fetch the cats himself but Min was worried there had been time for alliances to form and someone might try for a coup.

The planet wasn't more than a large rock. It barely had any spin, allowing the dark side to freeze before the sun, (a similar class to Fury's sun, Zemma noted) ignited its liquid natural gas surface into a raging inferno. The core was liquid, dense with heavy metals and had a fast moving internal spin that gave it enough gravity to hold its minor atmosphere. And created a thin but mostly stable crust that kept the core from lighting those liquid gases on the dark side... In other words it was a nice big bomb.

The Lords might consider it their duty to get rid of Riddick since he was hacking apart their beloved religion a piece at a time. Crack the core on the dark side of the planet and you might get a catastrophic chain reaction that turned that rock into a lovely blue ball of gas. The Lords could squabble over leadership later.

There was no talk of sending Min to fetch the cats. Riddick had told her of his experiences there. She had sense enough to see the difference between a prison full of women and children and one full of hardened criminals.

Sending troops to fetch the cats didn't have the same effect as seeing their leader walk out with dangerous animals walking benignly at his side. It was good for the mythos.

So Min had taken Riddick's place on the bridge of the flag ship, dressed not in her normal drab gray utility clothes but in a similar manner to Riddick. Black on black, visible weapons and his recent acquisition, a black hooded cloak. Riddick had asked her if she wanted to shave her head too. She had politely declined with a few choice words in Furyan.

On the bridge she had raised her hooded head revealing her blue eyes and stood like a sentinel. She gave what little orders she had to in a voice pitched low, trying to mimic Riddick's cadence. She pinned every member of the crew with her eyes. If necessary she was to shoot anyone who moved too slowly but it wasn't necessary. The bridge crew had already heard the rumors, and would spread even more now. The few Lord Commanders in attendance were too astonished by finally seeing evidence of the reports to do more than go through their normal motions.

Only Lady Vaako seemed un-rattled.

But then, First Commander Vaako was going down to the planet with Riddick.

Min had wished she had an excuse to shoot Dame Vaako. She wasn't experienced with guns, but Riddick had shown her how to use it and figured it was close enough quarters to not miss... much.

But the performance had the desired effect. Or perhaps the Lords were still circling each other... and the Vaakos. Either way, they had pulled it off. The cats followed Riddick readily to their new enclosure on board. More grist for the rumor mill since the cats had Riddick's same blue quicksilver eyes.

Mab had been delighted, as they were both unmated females; he could mate them both though they would never allow another male to touch them. A quirk of pair bonding in the big cats, a strong male could reproduce himself many times over but inbreeding would never naturally take place since the females were so picky and would never mate another male once they chose one. Nor had a harder time of it and lost her place as Queen. But they eventually left her alone in one corner of the enclosure where she licked her wounds.

Min wondered if it would make her feel better to have Nor lick her wounds.

You're getting delirious, girl, you cannot stay here all day and you cant get back to the suite without being seen.

I'm not a girl anymore, she warned the voice.

Don't change the subject, what are you going to do NOW?

I'll think of something if you would just shut up.

You're going to have to just crawl out of this hole and walk.

It wouldn't be good for the Myth, Min insisted.

Making Riddick look invulnerable and omniscient doesn't make you either of those things!

It's all show, she retorted. I'm sure he's had his ass kicked before.

You're doing quite a bit to make a show of him but what about you?

Shush.

You're still just a vacant eyed lackey.

Shush.

How are you going to be Lord Marshal hiding behind him when he decides it's time to get back to his old life? Are you going to go back to your old life?

Damn it all to hell, I said shut up!

The clanging of the enclosure doors broke Min's cycling thoughts. The attendants were feeding the cats and preparing to leave for the night. She would go visit with Nor and think of something.

Nor!

Min felt her pains less now that she had an idea.

It wouldn't be her old life with Nor at her side.

She could go back to her suite.

It was time to start making her own myth.


	20. Home

**Home**

* * *

The trip was slow and painful. Min held herself perfectly erect and didn't let anything show on her face. She hoped. She hadn't had to mask this much before. But she figured most people were staring at Nor anyway, most people didn't go to the Lords' zoo.

Nor seemed perfectly content to be with her, which raised Min's spirits considerably. She padded along slowly beside Min snuffing at the smells but not wandering off at all. She was probably as glad to be out of the zoo as Min was. The other queens hadn't been kind to her.

Min kept her blue lenses up the whole time, which was painful in its own right. How did Riddick go his whole life putting up with it? Well, she didn't have goggles and they would have defeated the purpose anyway. She didn't gaze around, she knew her way, and it made for, she hoped, quite a visage: The former simpleton child-woman walking, with poise, silently through the whole of the ship like a sombulant with an armored cat at her side.

'With poise?' She wanted to giggle.

At least he didn't hit my face, she thought gratefully. He'd been satisfied with breaking her arm -very- slowly. At least she knew he was aware: aware of their language still, aware of the moles, aware of the danger of being a Fury on this ship. That was the good news. The bad news was that she had no time to actually talk to him.

Min had gone to his cabin in the middle of ship-night and used a generic master code to let herself in. He had been on her almost immediately in the dark but if he still had control of his lenses he hadn't used them. Fortunately she had twitched hers up so she had dodged his first attack. Then she had spoken to him in Furyan, 'the new Lord Marshal is Furyan.' That was all she had time to say since she didn't manage to dodge his second attack, the one that probably broke her ribs. At the time she thought he had broken her back when his kick catapulted her into the wall.

It went downhill after that.

He spouted off about her blasphemy, that he was loyal to the faith, that whatever Lord had sent her to try tricking him into betrayal would be found out and punished. Then he decided it was his duty to get the name of that Lord out of her himself. That was not a fun eternity since she still couldn't breathe let alone talk.

I told you this was crazy.

Well, at least part of her mind was sharp as ever. She couldn't muster the enthusiasm to tell it to shut up she was BUSY trying to think of a way to survive this stunt.

Then she was busy screaming.

Ah, the future Lord Marshal... the voice started but Min cut it off.

She did what she had always done to survive, looked helpless. She would have liked to have actually fainted just for the relief but doubted she would wake up from it. She suddenly stopped screaming and went limp. He kept her in the grapple hold a moment longer before he threw her to the ground. Min was ready; she landed on her good arm and jackknifed her legs behind her quick as a snake. She was rewarded with his cry of surprise and pain... and a head start.

Now she was nearly home.

That would have seemed a strange word to call her suite before but a lot of things had changed, mostly in her own thinking.

The Vaakos had asked for her father's suite. Riddick had denied them though at the time Min hadn't cared, actually expected them to have it. He didn't tell her about it either. Min found out afterwards when Dame Vaako tried to maneuver Min into a dark corner for some cathartic one on one.

"Hateful little animal," Lady Vaako had started out.

That was interesting for Min at the time, could Vaako still be mad about the foiled poisoning? Min let herself be led just to see what was on her mind. Lady Vaako was usually good for some interesting conversation, sometimes with her fists. Min didn't intend to let that happen anymore but she was still curious what had Vaako in such a mood.

"What is it about you, you drooling, mindless..."

Drooling? Min had never drooled, she may have played mindless but she still had to live with herself.

"...First the Purifier, now the Lord Marshal..."

Oh, the sex thing, was that all? The dirtier the better, Min reminded herself. Did the Lady want sex tips? Well, the first time she had some she would be sure to...

"...You don't even live there anymore, you have the run of the Lord Marshal's suite..."

Oh, that. Well, that was interesting after all. Riddick never did anything she expected, and he seemed to have a flair for really irritating people... so was this kindness on his part? Or just another thorn in the Vaako's side? Certainly Dame Vaako had made it clear she expected to suite to go along with her husband's position.

Min had never bothered to ask him.

You just wanted to think he did it for you.

Give it a rest.

Ah, her own hall... her own door... Min put thoughts of Lady Vaako aside and moved a little faster. Her palm print still opened the door. Her voice still locked it. She dropped her lenses and called for lights then made her way to the comm to leave a message for Riddick...

"I have good news and bad news... But first, do you have any medical training?"


	21. Blush

**Blush**

* * *

"What did you do to your face?"

Since Riddick was picking her up off the ground where she had pitched forward in a faint in the middle of her message to him when Nor bumped up against Min's broken arm... you'd think it was obvious.

"My arm's broken..." She started, as he led her to the nearest couch.

"I can see that."

Okay, she was through talking to him. Besides, she needed to clench her teeth while he examined her arm.

"I hope you weren't making that face all the way down here."

He let her pop him in the back of the head with her good hand and just laughed at her. It made her feel better right up until he reset the bone in her arm. Nor didn't like the noise she made and growled ominously.

"Shush, Nor," was all Min could manage between clenched teeth.

"What else did he do to you?"

Min found the texture of the ceiling more interesting than ever. "He kicked me into a wall."

"Anything broken?"

Min sighed deeply, a mistake since her ribs suddenly reminded her that yes, there might be something else broken. Riddick, being Riddick, caught it immediately.

"Lay down," he ordered matter-of-factly. "Lift your shirt up."

Min blushed to her toes. At least he had his blue lenses up and shouldn't notice the color of her skin... too much.

She lay down with her broken arm against her chest and pulled her shirt up mid way with her good hand. He started touching her gently but his eyes kept flicking to her face. Min threw her good arm across her eyes and ground her teeth.

Fuck!

Now there's an interesting word.

Oh, do shut u...

Something like a growl of pain escaped her and she could feel Nor at her side. Min put her good hand out and touched her head. "Shhhh, Nor. Shhh."

"Well, they're cracked but I don't feel anything floating."

"Tell me that's good news." Min sighed then had to hitch her breath in pain again and closed her eyes. Damn it, she didn't want to look into his face right now.

"We need to get you to the med-lab."

Min's eyes flew open and she had to look into his face. "That is not a good thing."

"Unless you want to hide in here for the next six weeks until you heal, you need a shot of nano-juice." His face, his eyes, said 'and no-nonsense from you.'

"Shit." Min tried not to breathe too deeply. "What's ship-time right now?"

"Mid-day."

"Can it wait till tonight? Taking your broken toy to get fixed will not be good for your budding mythology." Or mine, she thought.

"Is that what you are? My toy?" His voice was facetious and slightly mocking.

Min closed her eyes and wished she'd never learned to blush. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Witty repartee was never something she had to practice. "Fuck you," was all she could manage.

He laughed.


	22. Poise

**Poise**

* * *

Min explained briefly what her experience with the first captain told her. He could still understand Furyan, so he probably had sidestepped the cleansing as well. The rest was cover, since he knew about the moles he must know more. After that she faded in and out all day. She was always surprised to wake up and see Riddick there.

"Don't you have things to do?" She would ask him every time she faded back.

"Just gotta make sure you don't fall down and hurt yourself again." He would reply dryly.

She wasn't sure if she was annoyed or flattered. But the voices in her head had hardly any time to argue the subject, as she would fade away again. It had been a day and a half since the first captain had made his point, and she had some catching up on sleep to do.

Once she woke up to the smell of steak...and a cup of hot soup on the table next to her. "You're a sadist," she told him.

"Probably."

At least Nor would have a good meal, she thought.

Once she woke up hearing Riddick giving some orders, but they didn't make any sense to her so she figured she was still sleeping. Why would he need a seamstress?

Finally she woke to Riddick shaking her shoulder. "It's time," was all he said in his 'no-nonsense from you' tone of voice. Min tried to sit up on her own and discovered the muscles around her ribs had mutinied. Riddick stood above her watching.

"You're gonna make me ask, aren't you?"

"You gonna ask?" He asked in that slightly mocking tone he used a lot with her.

"I haven't decided yet. How 'bout I just lie here and think about it?"

But Riddick reached down and hauled her up by her good arm while she gritted her teeth and tried not to make any embarrassing noise, like screaming.

"Why does it hurt more now?" She asked rhetorically. Okay, she whined rhetorically. She could face the fact that she had never been hurt this badly her whole life. Killing her mother hadn't been a fight, it had been easy...physically. This was just a slight miscalculation from her lack of experience; Ferrin had told her to practice more.

Slight?

"Because the adrenaline has leeched out of your system," he answered her. "Don't worry, you'll get a boost with the nano-juice."

Min teetered while the blood in her body rushed to her feet, then rushed upwards making her head feel too big. Oh yeah, she fell face first into the com-unit. Forgot about that did you?

Go away.

"Can you walk all the way up there or do I have to order you a stretcher?" Goody, the challenge voice.

Min turned her back on Riddick to walk around the little table. Okay, everything's working.

"Got it."

"Ready for the mythology?" Now there was a new voice. Pleased with himself? Huh.

Min turned slowly, not able to twist her torso but having to shuffle her feet around 90 degrees. Riddick was holding up a hooded cape fashioned similarly to his, but Min sized. Min's eyebrows went up in surprise. She'd been letting her face show her feelings around him more and more... well, some feelings, anyway. Surprise was safe.

"The future Lord Marshal can't be seen walking around in anything not perfectly tailored..."

Ah, mockery again, okay. That was safe too.

"...Or with the shiner you've got."

Practical.

Considerate, the voice amended.

Whose side are you on? I thought you didn't like him.

"You didn't bring the seamstress here did you?" Min didn't want to be seen by anyone in this condition.

Riddick just did that other thing he did with his head, the one that said, 'you're the crazy one, not me, what kind of idiot do I look like?' And she realized that her measurements were known, even if she didn't go every week for new attire.

"Sorry," she waved off her last comment.

He tossed her the cloak and she caught it with a groan. Sadist, she thought again for the umpteenth time. He donned his and she put hers on more slowly.

Poise, Min, she told herself.

The walk up was longer and slower than the one down. Elevators were for freight and speed. Lords and Ladies tended to walk up and down the long, gently graded ramps that offered the best views, of the architecture... and themselves. It would gain more attention to see them step onto an elevator than the mere countenance of the Lord Marshal and his smaller doppelganger.

The future Lord Marshal, she thought to herself.

You're insane, have I mentioned that?

Once or twice.

At the med-lab Riddick ordered the night crew out. Min suddenly felt unsure. She'd never had nano injections before. Did Riddick really know how to operate the machinery? Then she pictured him doing that head cock and 'do I look like an idiot' face and decided not to ask.

He worked quickly and efficiently without a word so Min just closed her eyes when the needles came at her. It wasn't as bad as she feared. But afterwards she still felt pretty sore. Riddick noticed the look on her face before she could ask the question.

"Cures the hurt, leaves the pain."

"Oh." she could live with that. She climbed more steadily out of the reclined chair than she had gotten into. Yes, she could live with that. Riddick was waiting by the door.

"The future Lord Marshal thanks you," she told him as she tipped up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. He turned his head slightly into her but didn't advance, or decline, the kiss. Then she spun around, flipped up her hood and preceded him out the door.

Good. He might not be as difficult to convince as I thought.

Insane.

Min just smiled to herself. She could live with that.


	23. No Answer

**No Answer**

* * *

'Cures the hurt, leaves the pain.'

He wasn't kidding. The adrenaline kicker was enough to get her home but then she hurt nearly as much as before. Riddick told her to take it easy for a few days so the nanos had time to finish the repairs.

And to stay away from the captains.

Then he left her alone with a final curious look at Nor...

...and the voice in her head.

You've got to stop.

She didn't bother to reply.

This is just a new mask.

If she talked back then she'd really be crazy, right?

You had to survive the moment, when your whole world and future collapsed. But revenge? Genocide? That's not the now, that's not survival.

Min pulled the cloak off.

That's part of the mask too, but it's no more you than Min is you.

Now that is crazy.

You're trying to build a Riddick mask. What will you call yourself then?

I'm still Min.

You haven't been Min in over a week. Min was the mask of a child. Now you fancy yourself all grown up -but fantasize about killing millions?

What else is there to do with the rest of my life?

But the voice didn't answer.

Min didn't spend the next few days following Riddick's movements about the ship or the course he set the armada on. She knew he'd had to kill one of the Lords, a commander who moved too soon to truly have the support he thought he had. Politics was still more interesting to her than their destination. But mostly she thought about what the voice had said to her.

You're not a killer, it would whisper to her unexpectedly, then not answer her response.

I killed my mother!

But she couldn't keep the truth from herself. She felt bad about killing her mother, she always would. It didn't make her stronger.

No! She shouted in her head, daring the voice to argue. I'm strong. I can be Lord Marshal!

The voice didn't answer.

The Witch! The Witch was going to be a problem. Riddick had left her in her cell but eventually she would be a problem. She knew too much about Furyans, and whatever it was didn't matter to her now. She had found the captains. She would find other Furyans. Together they would destroy all the meddling Elementals and...

You're not a killer. It's just a mask.

I'll kill the Witch.

If Riddick wanted her dead he'd have done it himself.

First you tell me not to be a lackey, a vacant eyed lackey! Then you tell me I'm not a killer and I can't be Lord Marshal. What do you want?

But the voice didn't answer.


	24. UnMasked

**Unmasked**

* * *

A few days later Min sat in the dark in the bowels of the flagship and tried not to think about all the things Riddick had just said to her. She tried not to think about all the things the five captains had told her. She tried not to think about her Ferrin. She tried not to let the voice in her head think for her.

I AM you; you are just the mask.

I am me! You are just the voice in MY head.

This is madness. This is what madness really was; fighting with yourself and losing.

This is growing up. Deal with all the things you don't want to hear, deal with the now and move on with your life. No revenge, no delusions of grandeur, no epic adventure to reclaim a dead planet and a dead race.

No! They were wrong about Ferrin.

Forgive him.

He saved me. He taught me to survive. He loved me!

He wasn't a hero. He didn't leave you to become a hero in his stead. Forgive him.

Min cried.

Riddick had said much the same thing to her after the captains left. Revenge was a waste of time, there was nothing to save, it was time to move on.

"You! You're planning on leaving, there's nothing here for you. So leave and let me do what I have to do!" She hissed at him, afraid her voice would break in front of him. What the captains said didn't matter; she could still build her mythology without them. She had Nor for her strength. She understood politics. She could wield this killing machine for a better purpose than religious ideology.

"If I thought you could build a new Fury," his voice was unreadable to her, "I would have let you even if it meant you destroyed the Elementals along the way. That would have been interesting."

"But now?" She challenged him, knowing what was coming but making him say it. Let him prove it. He wouldn't convince her, but let him try.

"It's pointless."

That was it?

"It's something!" She yelled back. It was something to hold onto, someplace to go, something to drive her. It was something other than facing the now.

Riddick cocked his head in that completely arrogant way that meant he thought he knew better than she did. He thought he knew what she was thinking. He thought he knew everything!

...And you think you're all grown up? You're acting more like a child now than...

No!

You don't need this mask to go on living with the truth.

No. It's not the truth.

Ferrin failed. Forgive him.

A few days after her recovery Riddick had simply called all the captains she had found to meet with him. He didn't tell her. She had come to his suite at his request only to face a new reality. She had no future mythos to build for herself. Riddick had decided to stay. And the captains...

The captains had been unimpressed to finally meet MinW'neta. Daughter of the Purifier? They called him Coward. They called him Betrayer. It couldn't be the truth.

Forgive him.

They knew about her father. They knew about the moles. He had warned them, the moles were to be allowed to catch only the Furyans they didn't trust, so the future insurrection would go smoothly. The Lord Marshal would be satisfied he had weeded out all Furyans and wouldn't look for their own moles. He wouldn't see it when the time came...

But the time never came.

Meanwhile Furyans died of attrition in the ranks. They shared in the destruction of more and more worlds, and word never came that it was time to rise up. The revolution never took place. He never called them to arms because the time was never right.

Now the five captains were all that was left. No soldier in the ranks lived to old age. No Furyan in the labs was worth waking out of stasis. There was nothing left but to live out their lives and die in the now.

No!

Forgive him, child, it's time to grow up and face facts. There is no mythology to build on.

Min cried in the dark.

'It's pointless.'

All Elementals were not to blame. Revenge was pointless. Riddick had laughed at her. All she would do is become what she hated, and create some other future Riddick who would kill her for her crimes.

Go live life in the now. Riddick wasn't leaving the ship rudderless to cause more destruction. Between the Elementals and the 'Mongers he would never live in peace unless he stayed. He had his own ideas about what to do with this tiger. Drop the mask.

But how?

Go find out...

How?

...go be Zemma.

**End Part Two**


	25. Reality Check

Reality Check

Zemma pulled the cloak off and wiped her face of the tears. She wouldn't need it now. Riddick had been indulging her for what ever reason. He never did anything she expected, she reminded herself. There was no voice contradicting her, no voice rubbing it in. There was, however a voice behind her.

"All done?"

She cringed. How long had be been watching her act like a child bawling in the dark? Zemma laughed out loud.

"Something funny?" Ah, she did something that surprised him for once.

"I was just wondering how long you had been watching me act like a child," Zemma began as she stood up. "Until I realized you've been watching me act like a child for the better part of a month."

She turned to face him and they regarded each other in the dark for a minute. He's still handsome, she thought. I wonder how he sees me?

There was no critical voice with a disparaging remark to follow this thought up. Zemma sighed out loud. "What kind of fool do you see me as, Richard B. Riddick?" Her voice held no rancor, just curiosity.

"What kind of…?" He just laughed out heartily. "C'mon, you ran out before dinner arrived. I thought you might want some company tonight."

It was an innocent comment. There was no implication of any kind. She didn't have any friends but him. He couldn't count any friends on board either. They could both use some company sans any silly talk about myths and power. He never really did need it, and now neither did she.

They climbed out of the darkness without speaking. For Zemma it was very quiet.

The nearest outlet was not nearest to the Lord Marshal's suite. Zemma felt some trepidation about walking openly in the flagship without any kind of cover but she was through with masks… and madness. Riddick seemed to be watching her from the corner of his eye as he pulled his goggles down. Well, she couldn't blame him for wondering what she would do next. She had to wonder, herself.

She twitched her lenses down and straightened her shoulders. She held up her head with a deep breath and her mouth pressed into a thin line. This was going to be tougher than she thought. But I can handle it, she thought. Min didn't contradict her; she had cried the child out of her system at last. She preceded Riddick down the ramp.

"Nice poise," he said as two steps caught him up to her. She hit him in the ribs with the back of her hand.

"Be nice, this is all new to me."

He just grinned and she couldn't help giving him a lopsided smile in return.

People did stare and Zemma felt nervous the whole way. She didn't make eye contact but she did manage to keep her head up. Everything looked kind of different from this angle. Everything was too bright and dark at the same time, as if she had been looking through a fog for most of her life. A fog of madness or fantasy or both, she mused, and held tenaciously onto the thread of reality.

It's ok, she told herself, and you aren't in danger anymore. You don't have to pretend to be anyone else. Just walk. Almost there. Relax.

The dinner cart was just inside the doorway where the ever present, and wary looking, guards had left it. The smells emanating from it made her very hungry. She pushed it into the suite to the dining area and started offloading the trays.

"Meat rolls!" Zemma laughed.

"And steak."

They descended on the food in comfortable silence in a slightly dimmed room so Riddick could take off his goggles. It was the first comfortable silence Zemma had ever experienced. Everything felt new, even the food tasted different. She felt more real than she ever had and it was strange. She put down her fork and stared at Riddick a moment.

"Why don't you drop your lenses now that you can?"

He glanced up at her, noticed she was staring and stopped the fork midway to his face. "It just feels more natural." He put his fork down and waited for her to say more.

She had expected him to say, 'It's who I am.' But, she reminded herself, not everyone wears a mask. "I think I've been misjudging you from the first," she said, a frown creasing her forehead.

He laughed his big hearty laugh. "Just now figured that out, did you?" He asked and she smiled back.

"Just now figuring out a lot of things."

"Like what?" Now she wondered, was that challenge in his voice or just his normal way of speaking?

"Is that a challenge?" She had to ask him. She'd come close to madness and had to face the reality that she'd thrown her lot in with a complete stranger. She didn't want to make any more assumptions that would tip her back down into the fog.

"Yeah," he tipped his head back. "It's a challenge. What do you think you have figured out about me?"

It was Zemma's turn to laugh. He couldn't read her as perfectly as she had feared. "I still need time to figure out who_ I_ am, now." She paused, then, "Why did you let me go on like I did?"

Riddick put his elbows on the table and shrugged with one shoulder. "Figured it would be redundant to 'ask you tomorrow'." He looked at her with his head tipped a little to one side.

"You're making fun of me."

"You're making it easy."

Zemma blushed and suppressed a grin of embarrassment. "Fuck you," she laughed and went back to her dinner. It was her one witty comeback. She'd have to work on more, later.

Riddick laughed back. "When you're not cracking up, you're funny." Then he picked up his fork and with a shake of his head went back to his dinner as well. "I think I'll keep you around awhile."


	26. Inhibitions

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

I'm replacing Vacca with Vaako, as I've been informed of the correct spelling. TY!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inhibitions

Zemma bussed the table and pushed the rollaway out the door. Riddick poured himself something amber in a glass.

"Are you old enough to drink now, Zemma Enan W'neta?" Riddick's voice had what she had come to think of as his challenge tone to it. But she was starting to realize he just always talked that way. He challenged everything, and usually won. She remembered thinking when she first met him how nice it would be to have that much confidence.

"Yes, I think I am," she replied. He pulled down another glass. "Do you have a preference for another scene?" She asked. He just shook his head. "Scene. Index," she called and luminescent words popped up on the walls. "Starscape, Nebulae, Planetary, Planets…"

"Whatever you prefer," he said.

She preferred her personal scene of Fury but she hadn't been able to watch it since that first day, when she realized she would never be able to step foot on any planet vaguely resembling it.

"Scene. Random cycle."

Mecca popped up first. Zemma blanched and her stomach flipped over… The 'Mongers collected scenes as well as computer data, animals and raw materials during their invasions. Mecca was last and so top of the list. The room was brightened by a view of the clear blue sky, even overhead, and a sea of sand in gold and sepias, with a distant green sea in the background. Zemma closed her eyes. "Scene. Switch."

When she opened her eyes Riddick was standing in front of her holding out a half full glass of something, with an odd look on his face. "Gonna be able to keep this down?"

Zemma took the glass and drained it half way. She gasped and coughed. "Yes," she choked but Riddick looked like he didn't believe her. The liquid hit her stomach like a ball of fire spread to her limbs.

Zemma coughed. "It's hot." She took another drink; her head swam a little.

Riddick nodded, still watching her face, and took a sip of his own. "You shouldn't drink that too fast," he told her dryly.

"It doesn't actually taste very good," she said with a crease in her brow as she took another, rather large, swallow.

"It does the job."

"What job is that?" Zemma finished the glass with a pinched look.

Riddick looked critically at her, then with a sadistic twist of his mouth he poked her in the sternum with two fingers and she tipped backwards onto the nearest overstuffed chair. He laughed at her disgruntled face.

"You better stay there if you plan on having another glass." He smirked and took another drink from his own.

"You're… mean." Hmmn… not her best comeback but 'fuck you' was overused.

"Feeling better?" He was enjoying this too much.

"Mush."

He laughed again and sat down where he could watch her as she struggled to get righted in the chair. "You sure you're old enough for this?" He kicked his feet up onto the low table and settled back comfortably, and offered no assistance as she tried to get twisted around.

"What… is this… stuff?" Zemma realized she had slurred her last word and tried to get her focus back. Drunks talk too much, remember?

"The good stuff." He was looking at her over the top of his now nearly empty glass.

"I like your laugh."

"Is that a fact?"

"Uh huh." Zemma looked at Riddick in the dim light of a fiery nebula. Watch what you say! How much humiliation do you want in one night?

"Is that it?" Was he baiting her? She wasn't sure of anything anymore…

…And didn't so much care right now.

"Nuh-uh. No more talking for me," she said.

"But you're doing so well."

"You're baiting me."

"You're very entertaining when I bait you."

Zemma managed to string along a complicated series of clipped vowels and blended consonants that were her native tongue without slurring them too much. Not that he would notice.

"I'm a colossal prick again?"

Zemma nodded too hard and her chin nearly hit her chest. He remembered that from nearly a month ago? "And you are capable of amatom- ana tom mi- cally imposssssible thingsss."

Riddick laughed lightly. "I've been accused of that in every language I've ever heard."

"Meanss you're consssissstant." Zemma pointed a finger at him and grinned too much. She felt very pleasant but a bit disconnected.

"Ready for more?" He got up and went back to the bar for the half empty bottle.

"You're challenging me again." She waved the finger she still had pointed but couldn't remember how it had gotten that way.

"I am?"

"Ugh!" Zemma growled at him. "You are singularly the most aggravating person… why after all these years do I want to go to bed with… you?" Wait, did she say that out loud?

"It's my singular charm."

Apparently so. She put her hand to her face and it felt hot. Blushing again? Or the alcohol? Oh, Zemma, Zemma, Zemma… this is not the way! But her mouth was disconnected from her brain.

"Will you go to bed with me, oh charming one?"

Riddick waited till he had returned to his own overstuffed chair, bottle in hand, before answering her.

"No."

Zemma only blinked. Okay, remember that warning about humiliation? This is it, sweetheart.

Riddick tipped his head to one side and looked at her over his glass again.

"Uhm… can I ask why?" What's one more humiliation now?

"Because you are drunk, and I am working on it."


	27. Impasse

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

I'm replacing Vacca with Vaako, as I've been informed of the correct spelling. TY!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Impasse

Zemma woke to the darkness of a starscape with her mouth tasting terrible. That was to be expected since her foot had been in it most of the night. She remembered…

Okay, time to go.

She could hear Riddick snoring in the bedroom. Did he normally snore? She went to the door and looked in. He was face down on the bed, fully clothed and looked like he had simply passed out where he had fallen across it. Why was this fun again? Was this the job it was supposed to provide?

Never again.

Oh, Zemma girl, what were you thinking? Once was too much.

Nor would be annoyed at her for missing dinner. Probably left a big stinky present for her to clean up. Zemma had had her pool bath filled with sand, from Mecca no less it was part of the raw materials haul, for Nor to use. But Nor had a way of making her displeasures known.

Zemma turned quickly away and discovered a whole new sensation. Hangover. Her head felt like it was floating a little off her shoulders and her stomach... oh, she did not feel good at all. She needed to get out before she left Riddick a big stinky present of her own.

She walked as steadily as she could to the door. She didn't have her cloak to cover herself, and she didn't have Riddick at her side. She was just going to go out and face the ship on her own. And try not to throw up at the same time. Brilliant strategy.

The door opened as she approached it and Zemma was at least grateful that ship time had not cycled over to waking hours yet. The hallway lights were dim. The ever-present guards wouldn't look at her sideways unless she did something odd, like falling down.

So, no falling down! Right. Here we go…

Zemma made it down the hallway to the main concourse without falling, without staggering and very little weaving. She thought she might still be a little drunk as well. Was that possible? Could you still be drunk AND have a hangover? She didn't have anyone to ask. She was never going to mention this night to Riddick as long as she lived. If he had a decent bone in his body he'd do the same.

HA! Zem ol' girl, he's going to torture you with it till Underverse come.

Okay, well, she deserved it. Meanwhile, turn coming up, try not to hit the wall…

Zemma navigated her way onto the main concourse and didn't run into anything substantial. It was ghostly quiet and just dark enough that she could flip her lenses up but she was afraid it might make her more nauseous. It might have saved her from Dame Vaako if she had.

"Look at what we have here." Dulcet tones with an undercoat of malevolency sounded from the shadows she had just passed.

Zemma dropped her head from habit. "Dame Vaako…"

"What is it about you?" Vaako spoke slowly as she strolled around to face Zemma. She struck out with one hand, grabbing Zemma by the chin and lifted up to look at her face.

"You're not pretty." Vaako let her go as if touching her was disgusting. "You smell disgusting." The honey had dropped from the Lady's voice, leaving only the malice. "And up until now we all thought you were stupid as the day is long."

Ship days tended to be 32 hours long, except Earth ships of course, but nobody counted them. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Focus, Zemma, you're in danger here…

"Then we thought you were possessed by Riddick," the Lady laughed but didn't sound amused. "Now I find out you've been playing us all along. You and that Furian father of yours."

Zemma's head snapped up at this. How did she...?

Dame Vaako laughed again, with as much merriment as she was capable of. "Oh, I know your little secret. I know lots of little secrets," Vaako paused. "And a few bigger ones as well…" She waited to see what impact this would have.

Zemma tightened the mental armor she'd grown up perfecting. She had a brief vision of Min pulling the knife from her belt and demanding this bitch…

Vaako will not dictate my actions; she does not have that kind of power over me. Back off. Back off, Min. Back…

Apparently not satisfied with Zemma's lack of action Dame Vaako hit her. Zemma felt the adrenaline charge through her body before the pain exploded in her eye. She also felt a lot less drunk. So that's the cure? Zemma blocked Vaako's next strike.

"Snake." Zemma hissed. She couldn't fight a grown man but this woman was only her size and Zemma had taken as much abuse from her as she was ever going to. She struck back. Lady Vaako's face was something to remember for a long time. She had probably never been hit in her whole precious life. But it didn't slow her down. Vaako lunged for the knife at Zemma's belt. Zemma blocked her again but didn't pull the knife. Don't touch it! Don't you touch it!

Lady Vaako did something strange then. She played with a ring on her finger. Zemma didn't look down, she had to watch Vaako's eyes, the snake was quick…

Dame Vaako's hand shot out in an open palm strike. Zemma didn't block it but stepped aside it. There was something strange about her ring now but Zemma couldn't look. Vaako charged her again, palm open. Zemma stepped back again out of reach. The woman was fond of poison; she better end this or she might not survive it.

When Vaako struck again Zemma stepped in with a hand lock and punched the Lady squarely in the nose. There was a very satisfying noise followed by uncharacteristic shriek of pain. Zemma held Dame Vaako's hand twisted away and guided the rest of her to the floor. She put a knee in her back and looked at the ring. The ornate setting twisted aside a bit revealing a tiny needle. Gotcha!

"I don't think you need this," Zemma pulled at the ring. Lady Vaako resisted but Zemma had the advantage. "If you don't want this broken," Zemma squeezed the Lady's wrist painfully. "Then you better give it up." Vaako quit moving. Zemma pulled it off and leapt away from the prone woman.

"I still have your secrets," Dame Vaako hissed from the floor, her voice sounding nasal. "I still have power over you."

"Who told you?" Zemma kept her voice low. So far there wasn't anyone to notice them.

But Lady Vaako merely gathered herself off the floor and stood with her head high and her nose bleeding. The women stared at each other, knowing there was nothing more to be gained on either side. Zemma's eye was starting to feel puffy and hot, but at least she didn't feel hung over. She circled around the other woman, one hand on the knife hilt, the other holding the deadly ring.

Back off, just back off.

Zemma walked backwards away from the statuesque Lady. Then she turned and fled to her own hallway and her suite. Min followed.


	28. Some Things Never Change

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

I'm replacing Vacca with Vaako, as I've been informed of the correct spelling. TY!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some Never Things Change

There were guards at her door. There were never guards at her door! Her door was palm locked for her father, herself and recently, Riddick. She didn't need guards. But when they started forward at the sight of her, Zemma knew. Someone had gained enough political clout to make a move, starting with her. She ran.

Dame Vaako was coming her way. Well, that explained why she was out this hour. Zemma turned the other way. She needed enough space to get into a vent without being seen. She could hear the thumping of feet behind her. Adrenaline was her friend.

Should have killed her when we had the chance.

Won't make that mistake twice.

Gotta live through the now first, sweetie.

Zemma flipped up her lenses and stuck to the shadows. She needed to climb the next statue; there was an access behind it for the lighting, off this time of night. Zemma froze and turned her face to the wall so her eyes wouldn't shine. Footfalls passed her, then a voice that wasn't either of the Vaakos'.

"Did you get her?" One of the five captains?

Damn it. Damn it. Da…

We'll take care of him too, sweetie.

Yes. But how?

It's not NOW. Climb up before he starts looking for you.

Zemma climbed while Dame Vaako replied. She still didn't know didn't know if he, or any of them, had use of their dark light lenses. She had to risk making noise just in case they had. She kept her breath and her heart steady. She kept her face to the wall. She climbed.

At the top she paused and listened. She still didn't want to look out where her eyes would shine.

"I said be quiet, I heard something."

Zemma froze again. His hearing was as good as hers. She held her breath.

"Where would she go?"

Dame Vaako sounded impatient. "How would I know? Little freak usually just wanders around when she's not in her rooms." She still sounded nasal; Zemma smiled.

"She wasn't wandering, she was scouting. For twenty fucking years she's been scouting this ship out. If she gets back to the Lord Marshall…"

"Riddick isn't our Lord Marshall, he's a damned blasphemer! We're…" The Lady's voice was starting to rise.

"Shut your fucking trap… Your Ladyship." The Captain's voice was cold and controlled. "She's still around here somewhere and the more noise you make the better chance she has of slipping by. How many more men do you have?"

"Enough…" Zemma heard anger, and deceit, in her voice. Why was she rushing again? She wasn't a true believer, she just wanted power.

You should be asking where Lord Vaako is.

Good point. And the other captains.

The voices below her quieted, Zemma held her position. She didn't know what ship time was, she couldn't stay here till light, but she knew the Captain was still down there listening for her. She'd have to wait him out. If she tried to open the access panel he would hear it. So far no one knew she used them. She didn't think she could get to the Lord Marshall suite this way, there would be sensors, but if she could get back into her own rooms she might warn Riddick.

This attack is aimed at you, sweetie. The guards at Riddick's rooms let you pass, remember?

Just a little vengeance then?

We'll see. After we look in on the other four captains.

Zemma heard the click clack of Lady Vaako leaving. But the Captain remained. Was this his plan or hers? How did they get together?

Not the NOW. Save it. Control your breathing. Just be still.

Zemma counted her heartbeats.

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

Twelve. Patient guy.

Footsteps returned. "We haven't found her, Sir."

"Keep guards on her room. She has to come back sometime. Lady Vaako says we can dethrone the pretender with her. I don't want her getting back to the Lord Marshall." The last words were a sneer.

Aha. A true believer. Probably went to the First Lord and Commander right after their meeting yesterday evening.

Was it only yesterday?

Some things change; some things stay the same.

Zemma counted the footsteps leaving. Damn it. The Captain was still there.

"MinW'neta…" The Captain was speaking very softly, just for her ears. "The blasphemy that is your very existence will be purged. The righteous shall prevail."

Zemma rolled her eyes at the wall. Did she sound this nuts when she cracked up?

Yup.

Lovely.


	29. More Myth

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

I'm replacing Vacca with Vaako, as I've been informed of the correct spelling. TY!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

More Myth

Damn.

Guards for the other four captains; well that told her something, anyway. It told her she had four more allies. If she could get them out. If she could get them to Riddick, or get him out. Then what?

Get to them first, that's the now.

Air vents it is, then. Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic.

Ha ha.

The ship's rooms were all double hulled, meant to hold pressure in case of a main hull breach. Not that it was likely. Meanwhile all the air, water and cable connections had their own locks that had to be accessible to technicians. They would automatically close in an emergency. But were wide open to her until then.

Sneaking back into a captain's room, that wasn't much fun last time.

Can't get worse.

The vents weren't at a convenient angle, and slick inside, meant to prevent dust from sticking. Zemma had to work along very slowly not to make a huge racket or just fall down the hole.

Can't get worse.

Guards could be there for a different reason than you think.

Still have the Lady's ring.

Zemma's eye was feeling like it wanted to swell shut. Dame Vaako had hit her in just the right spot; years of practice, she guessed. Riddick was sure to make a smart-ass comment.

You're not there yet. Stick with the now.

The now was dealing with the filter. She had to drag it all the way back to the top with her. It was supposed to be serviced from room side. She made a lot more noise than she wanted to but hoped it wouldn't matter. She made her way back and hoped that this time…

Blue glittering eyes were staring up at her from missing vent cover, beyond that was darkness.

"Child, what are you doing?" He was speaking in Furian!

"I need to talk to you."

"The door would seem…"

"You've got guards."

The indistinct face disappeared and returned a moment later. "I suppose you know why?"

"One of you five has aligned himself against the new Lord Marshall."

Zemma counted while he digested that. Being nearly upside down was making her face throb. And since the adrenaline wore off she was feeling rather sick again.

"I am not sure any of this is my concern."

Can't get worse?

Zemma changed tactics. "Who was my father's contact?"

"What does that…?" He trailed off. "I see. You're here because you think your father might have given the order and our missing colleague may have failed to relay it?" He seemed to be both full of doubt and simultaneously considering the idea.

"I am here because right now Lord Marshall Riddick has power enough to change the course of this armada, but if…" Zemma had to pause. The pain in her eye and the state of her stomach was too much for a conversation like this. If he wanted to he would follow. Too much talk in an un-swept room anyway, even if it was all in Furian. She turned herself around and headed back.

In the dark bowels of the ship she considered her own options. She could have this conversation again three more times; or just head back to her rooms, feed Nor and message Riddick. If they wanted to use her to get to him then she would just have to stay out of their hands. They didn't realize he wasn't the save the maiden type, anyway.

Zemma heard noise coming from the vent behind her.

"His name is J'Pheth. I am R'Ghnell. And, yes, he was your father's contact."

"How do you know who is missing?"

The captain climbed from the vent access. "He was adamant after our meeting that your Riddick was going to be the death of us all." He gazed around the darkness. "How much access do we have from here?"

"We can go almost anyplace. So far they haven't figured out I'm in here."

"That won't last. J'Pheth isn't a stupid man."

"He's a true believer." In Zemma's mind that was stupid enough.

"That just makes him pitiable."

Captain R'Ghnell had a better plan for liberating the others. At each of the vent locks he tapped rapidly in code. Within minutes the other captains joined the pair. Zemma waved off re-introductions in haste. She explained the problem and a possible solution. If they could take just one room, Zemma could hold it herself, and they would be free to break into the Lord Marshall's suite.

They needed security control.

Zemma had spent years hacking around security, they never changed anything, never expected anyone was trying to break into their system. Static personalities, static thinking. But she only had one computer in her suite; she needed more than that to follow the members of the coup, drop security where needed and even the playing field, by turning out the lights.

And maybe the air?

Maybe.

Worked more or less like a charm. Dame Vaako's influence didn't extend this far. Zemma didn't know exactly how many men the Lady thought she had but now it wouldn't matter. The entire flagship was a weapon against them. Except Zemma couldn't stay to monitor the cameras, and turn off the sensors around the Marshall's suite, and lead them there too. So back she went, leaving one of the captains to hold the room. She had to hurry back before shift change or they would have to do it all over again without the advantage of surprise.

She made it. Just. The captain, W'Rdah, stayed with her, which she thought quite considerate, but she was able to lock the arriving crew in the hallway, and evacuated the air.

"Are you going to kill them?" He asked.

"Do you care?"

"No."

"Yes." It was the simplest solution and meant they would have no other visitors from that direction; she left the hallway in vacuum.

Do you care?

No. It's survival. It's now.

After that she had to figure out a way to warn Riddick he had friendly company coming or he might kill them. The air vents were not a quiet means of egress. She had decided the surest way was to radically change the pressure in the room. It would feel like he was inside a giant drum. She 'banged' a few times then sent a voice call. It worked but he sounded pretty pissed. The other three captains waited until the red sensor lights went off, then entered the suite through the vents. She couldn't follow that conversation since Riddick had slammed off the com following her warning.

It was nearly ship's morning. She didn't know what she expected Riddick to do but what he did surprised her anyway. He and the other captains went straight out the front door of the suite and simply made a huge mess of everyone they found. Zemma was able to follow most of it on cameras. She couldn't do anything to help but keep the lights out. The hallways around the Lord's suites were all too large and decretive to be air locked. So she locked all the Lord's doors instead. Anyone not in their suite had a problem. Everyone else had to just wonder, since she locked out their coms and computers too.

More myth?

Can't hurt.


	30. Allies

Allies

Captain W'Rdah asked, "What's going on over here?"

Zemma looked and was glad for the extra pair of eyes. Something was happening on the bridge. A firefight. Zemma started locking down everything. The industrial sections of the ship were not vast and ornate as the Lords and Ladies Promenade; they could be pressurized hall by hall. Zemma locked every door. She wasn't going to let this coup spread. The morning shifts were soon to start and she didn't feel it necessary to have personnel just going about their business get involved in it by accident. Now she could turn her attention back to the bridge cameras.

Well, there he is!

Commander Vaako! Perhaps Lord Marshall Riddick had a friend after all? The bridge crew itself was trying to stay out of the line of fire but there were already several dead Commanders and a weary looking Vaako holding his own. The man who stood toe to toe with Riddick on Crematoria found little challenge in the Commanders who spent too many years around the War Room and not enough time in war. But he was outnumbered in a small space.

Zemma looked back to the cameras she last saw Riddick and company. She got on the PA system. "Sir, if you're done there? There seems to be an incident on the bridge requiring your attention."

Zemma knew he was done for now, there was no more movement in her infrared camera range though she couldn't be sure if Captain J'Pheth was a part of the carnage or not. She assumed Dame Vaako was locked securely in her apartment. Zemma opened the nearest lock that would lead to the bridge and dialed up the lights from black to dim.

"This way, Sir." Zemma said over the PA.

Something white caught her attention on the bridge camera. The Witch? She was with Lord Vaako but without ears she couldn't know why. Vaako was trying to push her back; he raised his gun towards the insurrectionists. The Witch shimmered and became solid in front of him, taking fire and falling.

Zemma didn't know what to make of the scene. What the hell was the Witch doing there? Zemma never got around to questioning, or killing, her. Commander Vaako must have gone to her after Captain J'Pheth came to him. Why? And why would the Witch take fire for Vaako? It's not the now, she thought, Riddick will figure it out when he gets there.

She led him to the bridge but didn't dial open the door right away. She had something in mind.

"Sir, Commander Vaako is currently pinned down to your left. I believe his intentions are honorable." She couldn't hear his response, if any, as there were only eyes, not ears in this particular hall. "Thirty seconds to door open, Sir."

She didn't have any computer control on the bridge but she still had eyes and environmentals. And the Public Address system.

"Make way for the Lord Marshal!" She amped up the volume to near deafening just in that room, then hit them with the drum again, only with a little more bang. The radical change in air pressure would probably give most of them an instant and blinding headache. The ones that kept their heads would feel it for hours. Then she cycled the lock.

Riddick and the three captains exploded in the door but found little resistance left. Men with weapons found themselves relieved of them before they really understood what had happened. Those that fought died.

Commander Vaako smiled in relief.

Interesting.


	31. New Now

New Now

Zemma tried to ignore what was happening on the bridge now; it was under control. Morning shift crews were trapped as well as the Lords. It was time to start getting people back to work. But first Zemma needed to make an announcement.

"A coup has failed to dethrone Lord Marshal Riddick. Some commanders have hastened to the Underverse. If you served under one of these contact the duty officer for reassignment. Long live the Lord Marshal."

Then she began unlocking and turning on the lights. People looked a little confused but put their heads down and went back to their business. Zemma smiled. Static personalities.

"Hungry?" She asked Captain W'Rdah lightly. "The cooks will be on shift shortly."

Zemma spent hours more in the security room. She didn't plan on letting the security crew back in here. This was now her room. She keyed up her palm code and Riddick's for the only entry. She called for clean up in the hallway outside, and other areas of the ship Riddick had cluttered. She started sorting out who was in on the coup by their bodies and reassigned their suites to the four captains, now commanders. The Ladies were not happy; Zemma didn't care. This was a new now.

And she looked for Captain J'Pheth. He had disappeared off her screens and his body was unaccounted for.

As was Lady Vaako. Lord Vaako was enraged; Zemma could hear him ranting as he passed every ear all the way to his suite. Her thirst for power had reached a point of offending his masculine sense of honor.

About time.

Zemma figured she knew where Lady Vaako and Captain J'Pheth had gone. After all, R'Ghnell had said the man wasn't stupid, just pitiable. And she did pity the two when they were caught.

Not really.

You're right, not really.

She turned the sensors around the Lord Marshal suite back on. She code locked all the ships in the 'port. Then she went looking for Dame Vaako's personal code. Easy enough from here.

Hmmnn, lock it out or just set up an alarm when it's used?

Oh, both.

The door com sounded; breakfast had arrived. Captain, no, Commander W'Rdah was the perfect companion, he didn't say much and didn't comment when she was talking out loud to herself. He watched the screens and scowled. Scowled and watched. Now he ate, watched and scowled. She didn't think she was making fast friends but he wasn't in the way either. Good enough.

Riddick was finally leaving the bridge, three new commanders in tow.

"Sir, would you like breakfast ordered?" Zemma used the PA again, centered just on that hall. Riddick looked up, those cameras were not hidden. "I have no ears there, Sir, hold up fingers for the number of settings besides yourself."

Riddick held up an open palm.

"I wont be joining you, Sir. I have a previous commitment to feed."

He nodded once.

Zemma found only drying spots of chemical cleaner where several hours ago there were guards at her door. She was glad to be home, and glad to have avoided Riddick and his new council. Her eye hurt and she was tired beyond belief. She was looking forward to a nice hot bath…

Oops, Nor. No bath.

Ugh, Nor. Very annoyed with her, she could see, and smell. Well, one more call for clean up, breakfast for Nor, then a nice hot shower and lots of sleep.

Maybe she'd sneak over to Riddick's suite later for a bath.

Yah, a bath.

Zemma smiled, and felt Min smile back.


	32. The Bath

The Bath

Zemma woke later unsure of the time but hungry again. She ordered for Nor and herself. Her eye felt better but she didn't want to look at it. She didn't need Riddick's voice in her head giving her shit about it.

She sat down at her computer and tapped into the security computers and listened to various ears around the ship for a while. No sound from the missing duo, no alarms set off from the Lady's code being used. But more useful rumors about the Lord Marshal.

Oh, wait, that was something new. Rumors about their new destination. Zemma hadn't bothered to ask Riddick about where he might point the armada. Apparently they were looking for some merc ship way out in the middle of no where.

Riddick planned on taking on a merc ship? Or taking them in? 'Gold wouldn't always get you good men, but good men would always get you gold.' Either way she was in the dark. Maybe he was looking for someone in particular? She might ask him.

In a few days when your face heals.

Yeah.

She queried his apartment. No answer. Good. She could sneak over and have a soak.

Can't sneak with Nor, can't walk around with a rogue captain looking for your head without her.

Okay. Stroll casually.

That'll work.

Better see what he's doing.

Zemma called up his code history. Shuttle logged out. He'd gone to one of the other ships. Perhaps the new commanders had loyal men still. Would be good to stack the deck. Meanwhile she should have plenty of time.

Breakfast came and she ate leisurely. She had to start thinking about what she would do next. She'd made herself head of security for the Lord Marshal. That should fill up some time.

I want to learn to fly.

Think you'll find a planet you can step foot on?

Something with tall trees and a high canopy. Yes. Someday.

That might work.

Let's go soak on it.

Nor splashed in first but didn't stay long. Zemma refilled the tub with bubbles and climbed in more sedately. She called up music but no scene and dimmed the lights. She closed her eyes, and fell asleep, and dreamed of trees.

Nor made a hunya-hunya noise that was her normal greeting. It startled Zemma from her doze. The water was still warm but not hot. Riddick had returned sooner than she expected. Damn it.

Damn it.

Damn it.

She kept her back to the door. She could hear him walking towards her, she turned her head just slightly so he wouldn't see her eye. "I didn't think you'd mind. My tub is otherwise occupied."

She risked a look at him from the corner of her eye. His goggles were perched on his head and his eyes were glittering. He crouched down near by, elbows on his knees and hands dangling between his legs. He was looking at her face. She turned away. "Something I can do for you?" She asked lightly.

"Let me see your eye."

"There's nothing wrong with my…" But he was reaching toward her chin. She dunked under the water to avoid him. She felt him grab a handful of her hair from the top of her head, and let him haul her up. She kept her eyes closed.

Here it comes, smart-ass remark number seventy-three.

Zemma tried to think of a come back other than fuck-you. Nothing came to her.

"It doesn't look too bad," was all he said quietly as he held her chin again and turned her head.

Zemma wiped suds from her face.

"Looks like she caught you with one of her rings right there." He touched her eyebrow lightly.

"Who?" Zemma tried to play very cool. He was very close and she was feeling very self-conscious about being naked. She wanted him to touch her again. She wanted him to not stop holding her chin and looking into her face.

He raised an eyebrow and his mouth twisted into a wry grin. "You have some specific list of enemies besides Dame Vaako I should know about?"

Zemma looked away, she couldn't keep looking at him this close. But she couldn't help grinning herself. "No."

"W'Rdah said it was swelling shut this morning." He pronounced the name clumsily. She thought she should start teaching him Furian and working on his accent, later.

You want him to teach you something else right now. Just tell him.

"I want to seduce you, but I don't know how."

Good girl! What's the worse that can happen?

She was still just looking at the water. She felt his hand leave her chin as he stood up with a sigh and turned away from her. She heard him walk a few steps away. Zemma felt her face get hot. Never again. Damn it. Never again. She sunk back under the water. Her stomach rolled with anxiety.

So she didn't see him stop and look over his shoulder. She didn't see his face work as he came to some decision. She didn't see him turn back towards the bath as he stripped off his shirt.

She did feel the change in the water as he climbed in. She popped back to the top sputtering.

Riddick laughed.


	33. Gratuitous PWP

The Bath pt. 2

Zemma suddenly found her stomach un-knotted and filled with butterflies. She felt her mouth hanging open but couldn't speak. Riddick had slight grin on his face as if he was, yet again, enjoying her discomfort. But his eyes softened the look; his eyes were kind, even understanding. He reached out and lifted her chin, shutting her mouth, and left his hand on her face. The smile disappeared.

"Are you ready for this?" He seemed very serious, which made her want to giggle. And cry.

"I'm nervous as hell." At least her voice didn't crack.

His face tightened as if he was holding back saying something. Then simply, "You don't have to be afraid."

But she was shaking anyway.

He reached down under the water with his other hand and took hers. He put it on his chest. She stared at it there, afraid to move. He moved a little closer along the tub bench to her side so their knees touched, still looking intently at her face as if gauging her reactions. She glanced back up and away again, completely out of her element and lost. His hand, still on her face, guided her to a simple kiss. Zemma closed her eyes and shivered.

"Hey," he laughed softly. "Relax." He pulled her against his shoulder and just held her.

Zemma took a deep breath and let her fingers trace patterns on his chest. Then she turned her face into him and kissed his neck and he let her dot him with soft kisses before he caught her face again and kissed her properly. She kept her eyes open, looking into his.

He broke the kiss and chuckled, "You're supposed to close your eyes."

"Oh," she snapped her eyes closed quickly and he chuckled again, so she peeked one eye open.

"You're teasing me again."

"Mmm hmmn," he said as he dropped his head to kiss her neck.

Zemma caught her breath. Now that was interesting! She turned her head and tried it on his shoulders and was rewarded when he sighed in return. His hand traveled down her neck and his other hand came up behind her back making small motions that almost tickled. She copied his movements, letting her fingers dig into his muscles.

"That's nice."

Zemma smiled, pleased with herself. She let her hands come forward over his shoulders and massaged the muscles in his chest. Riddick sat back, closed his eyes and let her, his own hands making little circles on her shoulders. Zemma took one of her hands and moved one of Riddick's to her chest. His eyes flew open. Zemma smiled back.

"I think it's time we move this to another room."

Zemma was suddenly very nervous again. Riddick took her by the elbows and stood her up with him and kissed her. Zemma couldn't look down; she stared up into his face and kissed him back.

"Lights off."

She opted not to twitch up her lenses as the room went from dim to black. He toweled her off slowly and thoroughly, and she let him lead her through the darkness. He led her to the Lord Marshal's bed. She'd slept in it before, but alone.

Riddick stopped and stroked her face. "It doesn't have to happen right now."

"Yes. Yes it does."

He laughed that laugh she liked. "Okay."

He ran his fingers down the outside of her arm and she shivered again. He bent his head down and she tipped up on her toes to kiss him. Her heart was thumping in her chest being so near, and naked. She ran her hands across his chest again and caught her breath when he copied her motions. She ran her hands down to his hips and he followed her. Then he picked her up in the air and she squeaked in surprise.

"What kind of noise was that?" He laughed.

"I don't know," she replied, embarrassed. "I've never made it before."

"Lets see what other noises you have in you."


	34. PWP Pt2

The Bed

"Wrap your legs around me."

Zemma was in the air, her hands on Riddick's shoulders for balance though she didn't need to. She wrapped her legs around his torso and blushed knowing he could feel her now. He turned and made his way to the center of the bed while she clung to him. He laid her down and disengaged her limbs from him and lay beside her.

Zemma was feeling too much of everything. Impatience, excitement, fear and something else she didn't have a name for yet.

Happiness?

Lust?

Okay, those too.

Lo… Don't you dare!

Riddick distracted her from her racing thoughts. "Can you get pregnant?" He asked while stroking her stomach lightly.

"Uhm," she had to clear her throat. "No. Part of the disguise of being a…" She didn't want to finish that sentence. 'Concubine' sounded dirty to her now. "I was surgically sterilized," she finished flatly. And sexually transmitted diseases, while rare, were typically prevented by nanos, everywhere but technologically or religiously backward planets.

It's surgically reversible, you know, a voice whispered in the back of her head.

Oh, why couldn't her brain just shut up for a little while?

But then Riddick was distracting her again. He brought her hand to his face and kissed her fingers then slowly made circles down his body with it. She knew where this was going. She shifted sideways and let him lead her there while he kissed her exposed neck. She tipped her head into his chest and tried to remember to breathe. She let her fingers touch lightly, then more firmly as he directed her.

"Mmm hmn," he bent his head and hummed in her ear. Then let her hand go and started tracing circles on her hip and thigh. She felt quite a thrill when he sighed deeply and bit gently on her shoulder.

Then he shifted and laid her back again, taking him out of reach of her hand, and let his explore more of her. But never quite getting to where she wanted him to be. With the hand behind his back she pushed his head closer and the other she pulled his hand up…up…

He laughed with his lips against her skin but didn't comment.

Nor chose that moment to follow them into the bedroom with her usual greeting. Riddick stopped what he was doing, which made Zemma want to scream, but she merely dug her nails into the back of his neck.

"What?" She whispered.

"Will she be ok, with this?" He asked quietly.

Zemma laughed a little breathlessly. "She's had sex before. She gets it." Then she twisted up and bit him on the neck with a little more force than he had. That got his attention back.

"Is that how they do it?" He asked her, looking down into her face. She could see his eyes. She twitched up her lenses now and looked into his face. Beautiful. She stroked his face and the top of his head.

"There's usually more growling and biting," she laughed a little. She didn't feel afraid. "Now how do we do it?"

He moved to show her.


	35. Lord Vaako

I'm replacing Vacca with Vaako, as I've been informed of the correct spelling. TY!

Typo passed=past has been replaced, nice catch! (my 'beta reader', a.k.a. daughter, was at karate) :D

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lord Vaako

She thought she might be embarrassed afterwards when the immediacy of the moment wore off. But she felt good, quite happy even. She stroked the arm he had thrown across her and whispered, "Thank you."

Riddick opened one eye and looked at her, she had thought he was asleep. "You're welcome," he said quietly.

Zemma scooted closer and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I have to go."

Now he opened both eyes but didn't say anything.

"Go to sleep," she told him as she stroked his face. "I slept all day."

He reached up and grabbed her hand for a moment but let her pull away without a word.

Zemma found she had too much energy all of the sudden. She didn't know what she was going to do with herself but she did know she needed another bath; Nor was sniffing at her. Then food, she was incredibly hungry. Then…

I want to learn to fly.

I am flying.

Then she should go find out what Lord Vaako knew about the Witch, Aereon. Zemma always assumed Aereon was in league with the Elemental Lord Marshal somehow. Why else would he let her come and go? Why else would she be so interested in Furians and Riddick in particular?

Zemma bathed and dressed and braided her hair. Ship time was only just past late dinner for most Lords. Zemma signaled a voice com request for Lord Vaako. She was surprised when he picked up so quickly.

"Yes, my Lord Marshal?"

Oh, yeah, oops.

"Lord Vaako, this is," she paused; he wouldn't know who Zemma was. She took a deep breath and started over. "This is MinFerrin. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to visit you, Sir? If you will indulge me, I'd like to ask you a few questions about today." Her voice sounded strange to her. She hadn't spoken to Lord Vaako as herself before. She felt the need to be very formal.

There was a pause. "MinFerrin?" He sounded dubious. He'd heard the rumors, most certainly had spoken to the traitorous W'Rdah. But he hadn't seen her silver blue eyes himself.

Zemma signaled the video and composed her face. She didn't twitch up her lenses. She waited a moment while he decided, then saw the video link come on.

"My Lord, I am the one you knew as MinFerrin." She nodded her head but did not look down. She would be respectful but she would never again be 'MinFerrin'.

"I see," he still sounded undecided. "Yes, I think it is time I met you." Then more in command of himself, "Should I send a guard to accompany you?"

"No, thank you, Sir. I have my own."

He raised an eyebrow at this but she figured he still had one more shock when he saw Nor.

"I'll be right there." Food could wait. She signed off.

"C'mon Nor, you need to meet another member of the inner cabal." Zemma patted her thigh and Nor followed willingly.

There were two new guards outside Riddick's quarters. Men she didn't know by sight. Perhaps some of the four captains, no, new commanders, men. They didn't spare her a glance, keeping a wary eye instead on the armored cat that was keeping an eye on them. There were other stares as she made her way to Vaako's apartment. Some were fearful, some hateful, all looked away quickly.

Two guards at the Vaako suite were new as well, and also men she did not recognize. But these nodded to her as they signaled the door com. It opened immediately, she was expected. Nor followed Zemma in and they paused at the threshold. She was seeing this place from a new perspective.

Lord Vaako was alone, in the middle of his sitting room, drink in hand and looking at her expectantly. He did not come forward and greet her as an equal but Zemma was undaunted. She figured Nor had more to do with that than impropriety.

"Nor, lay down," she commanded and used a hand signal as well. Then she went to greet her host, mental armor intact and face composed. She put out her hand.

"Lord Vaako," she began. This was going to be difficult to explain in one introduction. "I am Zemma Enan W'neta, formerly known to you as MinFerrin." She tried to keep the apology from her voice, for years of deceit. He was, after all, an honorable man she decided. He reached for her hand slowly, studying her face.

What is he seeing there for the first time?

Somebody new; a very newly mature woman.

That thought made her want to blush and she wasn't sure she could control it. She looked away. "May I sit down?"

That broke his silence and his stare. "Yes, yes, sit. I have questions, and you have some for me. Would you like a drink?"

No!

"No, thank you." Zemma sat opposite him as he more or less collapsed into his chair. Hadn't slept all day, she thought.

Looks very handsome when he's haggard.

Don't. Even. Start.

Zemma suppressed a secret smile. "I realize I must come as quite a shock to you." He was still rather intently studying her face.

"Are you," he began, "Are you the same person…?" His eyes narrowed as if trying to lay the mental image of MinFerrin, addled child in a woman's body, over the top of the image that sat before him to see if they compared.

The new woman in a woman's body.

Damn it. Stop that, just focus. Please.

Zemma bit her tongue, then still strangely formal; "I am the actual daughter of the Purifier, Enan W'neta, known to you as Lord Ferrin. I have been hiding in plain sight by deception until such time as…"

"Captain W'Rdah," he also pronounced it badly, "said as much. But I didn't believe it. Couldn't, until I saw it with my own eyes…"

Zemma felt a little nervous. He was certainly shocked but was it disbelief or had the Captain tapped into this man's theology? Would he now see her as an abomination and a blasphemer? Nor was just twenty feet behind her; he didn't appear to be wearing a weapon…

He stopped staring at her and looked to his drink instead. "It's interesting that you picked Zemma to call yourself." He took the last swallow and stood, turning to the room's bar to get a refill.

"My mother's name was Zemma," he said.


	36. Death Before Dishonor

Death Before Dishonor

Zemma was shocked almost beyond speaking. 'Zemma' was not a common name in the galaxy, unless you were Furian. Then it was as common as Mary or Sue on Earth. What the hell was she hearing here?

"Your mother's name?" She started, a bit too softly. She thought she would have to repeat herself. But he heard her. He heard her just fine.

"I was born on the breeder ship. Not a fact I advertise, mind you." He turned and pointed at her with the hand holding the glass. She thought he was on his way to drunk. But at the moment he was composed, almost reflective.

"She died during childbirth."

That explains why he wasn't strangled, she thought. How much younger than her was he? She tried to guess. Certainly less than a decade, though he was the youngest Commander the previous Lord Marshal had ever advanced.

"The only thing I know about her is her name. I was raised by another woman until they caught me and hauled me out of there to military training school." He took another drink, remembering.

"I didn't know that's where the boys were taken to," she commented.

He looked at her sharply. "You were born there too, eh? People talked about 'Ferrin's peculiarity'. I didn't think much about it, but you certainly had my wife's imagination in overdrive." He took another drink from his glass and looked at it as if it held answers. "He wasn't much of a man to hold such a position of power."

She didn't remind him that he was talking about her father. He was a tech, and a politician, not a soldier; until he came here.

"What did Captain W'Rdah tell you about my father?" She spoke softly, not wanting to irritate this man, now as strange in her eyes as she was in his.

"Blasphemer and traitor. Nonsense, really; secret faction of Furian warriors looking to overthrow the Lord Marshal and prevent us all from getting into the Underverse." He turned to her. "If my Lord Marshal says there's an Underverse and we're going there, then there is and we are. If he says otherwise, then it's otherwise. What's important is honor."

That's what she wanted to hear.

"What did the Witch," she amended herself, "Aereon, say to you?"

"The Elemental?" He poured another drink. "More nonsense about destinies and her brother's madness…"

Brother!

"…And sneaking Furians off the breeder ships to fulfill the prophecy she poisoned his mind with…"

So she was the cause of the death of the Furian civilization, in order to save the galaxy from a madman.

Do I forgive her for trying to do what's right even though she caused so much death?

Did you cause Riddick's Kyra to die?

"…And duty. As if I don't know about duty." He rounded on her. He seemed full of regret she thought might be for his wife's dishonor. "Victory and duty are all I have left."

She didn't tell him how true that statement was. She didn't tell him he was one of the few surviving members of a race sacrificed to save the universe from power and evil. She didn't tell him his new Lord Marshal was a criminal who'd rather not lead them but would bend the armada to suit his own private agenda. She didn't need to tell him his wife, whom he obviously loved, she could see it in his face, his grief, would not survive the week.

"I'll inform the Lord Marshal of your continued loyalty."

"Long live the Lord Marshal," he parroted but his mind was somewhere in his glass. Whatever questions he had for her he had forgotten.

Zemma left quietly with Nor in tow.

Aereon had died to protect Lord Vaako, either because she knew he was Furian or because she knew he needed to hold the bridge for Riddick until the coup was defeated. Vaako had held the bridge because his sense of duty, in the absence of his wife's politicking, was to his Lord Marshal, whoever that was.

But she thought there was something more there, something she couldn't put her finger on.


	37. Poise and Poison

Poise and Poison

Her apartment smelled better. And there were no guards at her door. Both made her feel better. A lot of things were weighing on her mind so the little things being taken care of seemed like a great relief.

Little things like…?

Zemma giggled. It was safe to giggle now, alone in her suite and feeling good. She felt very good and she was safe here. She pushed all thoughts of Kyra, Vaako and Aereon aside in favor of dinner. Crustaceans!

And music… and her Fury rainforest scene. She wondered how Nor would see it and what she would think of it. There wouldn't be any smells to tell her it really existed, once.

Nor was huffing at the ground and making little growling noises in the back of her throat.

"It's ok Nor, it's just the cleaning men from this morning."

"No. I'm afraid it's not," said a voice in Furian.

Fuck!

Nor was growling in earnest and stalking towards the voice coming from the darkness at the back of her suite. Zemma twitched her lenses up. J'Pheth, and he was armed.

"Nor," she began, hoping she could call her off before he killed her.

"Stop," he said in Furian, and Nor paused in confusion. The word was right, but the voice was wrong. R'Ghnell was right, this was not a stupid man.

"Nor, come," Zemma called, trying to keep the tension out of her voice that might set off the big cat anyway. "You needn't be so rude to our guest." She didn't try to create the sugary coating of Dame Vaako, but the rest: cold, aloof, unafraid. And poised. New mask, new voice, new now. She dropped her lenses.

"You don't seem surprised to see me." Zemma listened carefully to his voice. Irritable, he was expecting fear. Good.

"R'Ghnell said you were a smart man. Dedicated. A shame you moved too soon and alerted the," she paused for dramatic effect and dropped her voice to palatable scorn, "Riddick." But she shrugged a shoulder as if none of it mattered. Poise.

"What do you mean?" Confusion and suppressed hostility. He wasn't sure what he was hearing but she had a hook in him. Good again.

Zemma walked to the bar slowly. She had to play this man carefully. She hadn't been sure when she had heard him and Lady Vaako on the Promenade but now she was. He was the First Captain, the one who had nearly killed her. Just her luck.

And now he was armed.

She took two glasses from the bar and poured a drink into each of them.

"What do you mean I alerted him?" He menaced, stepping closer.

Zemma took her glass and waved an invitation towards the other one.

Take your time. Keep control. Poise.

"It's no problem, really. He's so paranoid, he's been looking for mutiny behind every shadow. You simply took the spotlight off us." She swirled her glass and brought it to her lips as if sipping but didn't let any pass.

"Us?"

"Dame Vaako didn't tell you that?" She let her voice rise in falsetto. "Well, she couldn't in front of that puppet husband of hers, could she? You see, we agree that this Riddick has no business being on the throne. But we disagree about who," she paused to look at him, "should take his place. She wants power, of course, and she's always been jealous…"

"You lie!" He hissed, cutting her off. Anger, but stemming from his uncertainty. Not good. It would make him unpredictable if he lashed out against what he didn't understand.

What does he understand? Feed him that. Give him what he wants. Hurry!

True believer.

The myth.

J'Pheth was advancing with the gun leveled.

Poise, Zem.

"Do you think for a minute that the Lord Marshal didn't know about me?"

That stopped him.

Got him. Play it.

"The Lord Marshal created me. He never trusted Enan W'neta, the Furian. But he needed someone who understood the science of cleansing to adapt it to each new people. And he needed someone who could motivate people to convert." She kept her eyes on his and did Riddick's maddening little head tilt. "The Lord Marshal created the Purifier. He needed someone to ferret out rogue Furians. And he needed someone like me to keep an eye on that."

"You don't bear the mark," he scowled. "You were never cleansed."

"I was never the daughter of the Purifier. I never needed to be cleansed. He thought he was saving me. But I was born in the labs knowing my purpose, knowing the Lord Marshal's vision." She let her voice creep up in volume and down in pitch, "And I will see that vision restored."

Zemma held his eye and counted her heartbeats. Did she get him? Would he believe?

"Dame Vaako said she could use you to bring down the pretender."

"Dame Vaako doesn't like competition. But she loves power."

"She was double crossing you?" Doubt, and yet he was considering it, making it fit with what he believed he knew.

"She knew I was seducing this Riddick…"

Don't you dare blush now, it's not in character. Poise, damn it.

"…To make him vulnerable to attack."

"Why didn't you kill him yourself?" Uncertainty but no anger. He thought he knew the answers now, she just had to feed them to him.

"Do I look like I could kill him?" Zemma let her voice sound affronted. "Poison," she paused hoping he knew that was the Lady's weapon of choice. "Would leave too many questions and no clear leadership."

J'Pheth nodded. Yes he was expecting this answer. It was why he didn't like Lady Vaako either; her reputation preceded her.

"Why did you summon us?"

"I had to know there were no Furians left who might decide to follow this Riddick."

He nodded again. He was feeling a bit proud of himself on this matter. Bastard.

"Drink up." She held her glass up. "To the future." She took another faux sip from her own drink and watched him over the rim. Did she have him?

He wavered near the bar. Paranoia had kept him alive this long. "Why do you have the cat?" His voice was light, as if it weren't important but it was the one piece he didn't have figured.

Zemma laughed merrily. "If you were in league with Dame Vaako, wouldn't you want a taste tester?"

J'Pheth laughed out loud. It wasn't a nice laugh but she was glad to hear it anyway.

Got him.

Good.


	38. Schemes and Whispers

Schemes and Whispers

Now what?

Now we scheme to kill the Riddick, of course.

Over dinner.

Yes.

Good, I'm starving.

You're always hungry.

"Shall we discuss our future over a late dinner, J'Pheth?" Zemma walked to the console and called up a menu without looking back. Would he see it as trust or stupidity? Either might work as long as it made him feel at ease. She listened carefully.

Nor stayed put. She heard the glass drag along the top of the bar for a fraction of a second.

Excellent.

"What did you do with Dame Vaako?" She asked lightly.

"Nothing," he seemed disgruntled. "Bitch won't get her hands dirty, she went back to her rooms."

Zemma knew the Lady hadn't used her code anywhere since the failed coup. Was she still in the suite? Did Lord Vaako know that? Zemma thought he looked grief stricken and regretful when she was there. Had he killed his wife himself? Or was he hiding her? That was interesting.

"I expect she'll hide there till she thinks up a plan that will let her save face." Zemma wasn't sure though. She ordered two extravagant dinners and wine. Fill him up and make him sleepy.

He might have slept in the walls.

But I did sleep today. I can out wait him. He can't stay awake forever.

"How do you expect to kill the pretender?" Ah, testing her. No problem, just stick to the rules of the myth.

"Well, I can't do it myself. But whoever does keeps me, and the Lord Marshal's vision."

Little slut.

Ha-ha.

"You know how to get to the Underverse?" Dangerous tone there. Any answer might not be believed. Be vague.

"The Lord Marshal's vision was programmed in me." Zemma tried to sound rapturous, touched by god and humbled by it.

It's a stretch.

Shush, look blissful.

"I don't believe you. Why would Dame Vaako want you dead?" Just testing the waters, he wanted to believe. He needed to.

"All she wants is power, she doesn't care if it's in this universe or the next." Dripping venom was easy. "But she was my only avenue to powerful allies, until you came." She needed to turn this conversation around. "Do you think you can take him?" She let herself sound greedy. "If I lure him here, can you take him from behind?"

She could see he wanted to say yes immediately. But he was cautious and smart. Riddick was a big guy and J'Pheth was getting a little long in the tooth. No older than the previous Lord Marshal or her father but Riddick had bested them both and stood toe to toe with the much younger Lord Vaako.

"I have loyal men, devoted to the faith, we should bring them over."

"Done." She let her voice sound like victory was already in hand. It was a tone she hated hearing in others but seemed appropriate here in this camouflage. But what the hell was she going to do with a ship full of J'Pheths? She couldn't accidentally run them into the nearest passing star, she'd still have this J'Pheth looking over her shoulder with a gun in her back. How was she going to warn Riddick…

…to come and save you?

Shut up. We'll deal with this.

Fuck!


	39. Patience or Fear

Patience or Fear

"Lets start getting your men their transfers until dinner arrives." She needed that list and needed to know how much he could glean from what she did on the computer. He watched over her shoulder for a bit, but she didn't do anything unusual. Then he got bored. Lucky break.

Not so lucky: he had several hundred men. They couldn't all come at once at least. She arranged for transport as well as transfer papers. And saved the list to her personal file. She couldn't manipulate the shuttle but she might be able to lock it in the port and evacuate the air. Then dinner came.

Zemma fed a few bites to Nor just to keep up pretenses. Nor seemed annoyed there wasn't more.

"So you must be a navigator as well, to be able to lead us to the edge of the Underverse?"

Oh dear, that question was much too casual and she didn't know a star map from a dinner plate. Except that star maps didn't usually come with sauce on the side. Be vague.

"I don't understand navigation, it's like a program in my head. Key it up and out it spills."

"But you know the key?"

"Oh yes."

He wanted to ask what the key was, it was on his lips. Zemma waved a fork at him.

"Nuh-uh. We aren't close enough yet. Just because I was created, not born, doesn't mean I don't want to live to see the Underverse." She smiled a Lady Vaako smile and felt dirty. "What do you have in mind for this Riddick? Public execution would be best but if you just throw his body down in front of the throne and take your place there, that would probably satisfy."

It was the first time she had done more than hint that he would be the next Lord Marshal. It was a dangerous ploy but a necessary one. If he was just a true believer he might decline the offer and be less susceptible to manipulation. Ultimate power corrupted more easily.

"Why did the Lord Marshal place all this information in the head of someone playing the role of mental idiot?"

She'd been waiting for that one. She looked dreamily into space as if the memory of the Lord Marshal alone was enough to transport her to the Underverse on wings of bliss.

"The Lord Marshal knew he might be called to the Underverse before his people were ready. But he didn't want them to lose the chance to be reunited with him in paradise." Her voice was singsong and theatrical. "This is only a test of our worthiness."

You don't think he's THAT susceptible?

We can only hope.

J'Pheth looked off into space as if seeing his Lord and Master in the great beyond.

Pitiable.

Stick a fork in his eye, quick!

Zemma clenched the fork more tightly. How fast was she? Could she afford to throw away this mask so quickly on a gamble?

You're afraid. He hurt you before and now you're afraid.

Patience. The masks give us a safety margin only as long as they are intact. He doesn't know it was me in his room that night. Patience.

You're afraid.

Yes.

"You think you can lure the pretender here after my men arrive?" His voice said he was committed. Zemma smiled in her head. It might not get that far.

"Yes," Zemma smiled Dame Vaako's smile again; it was easier this time. Dame Vaako might be her salvation. She still had the Lady's ring in her room. If she could get to it. If she could get close enough to J'Pheth to use it. If it did anything useful.

Sounds like a bigger gamble than a fork in the eye.

Patience. It's not the now.

Will you be able to act when it's now?

Zemma wasn't sure anymore.


	40. Too Much Time

Do all Furians have this capacity for alcohol? Damn, he could drink!

Zemma had to sip her wine but didn't like the way it made her feel. J'Pheth was working on the second bottle but wasn't looking drunk OR tired. It was running late now, two hours into fourth shift, about five hours since she left Riddick's bed. Thoughts of that kept her awake and her mind pleasantly occupied. J'Pheth wouldn't let her leave his sight 'until the pretender was dead.' So Zemma sat in the sitting area listening to music and watching J'Pheth NOT get drunk.

Damn it.

At least he wasn't insisting on conversation. Another Furian trait? Or just a consequence of the lives of the Furians she had met so far? She still didn't know very much about Riddick's past life. He didn't like to talk about it unless it had some relevance, his Crematoria experience for example.

Does everything have to come back to Riddick?

She knew he found Kyra there, but that wasn't where he met her or where she saved his life. Zemma never felt inclined to press for more details. She understood how much of one's life wouldn't be fit for tête-à-tête. And she never had a friend with which to share heart to heart discussions, so she didn't miss it.

Did I kill Kyra, giving her that knife?

Crematoria was a 'slam' and Kyra had been there. She never really thought about female convicts being stationed with their male counterparts. Her 'prison' had been almost exclusively female, except for those boys who could still pose as girls. Yet there had still been chaos and violence on the breeder ship; too many people and not enough space, or food, was bound to have that effect on anyone. Women were pulled from their cells to see the 'doctor' and ended up pregnant, adding to their stress, and the population.

It's surgically reversible, you know.

Now that is enough!

Time was creeping by so slowly and her mind tended to whirl very quickly as it was.

Start thinking about how you're going to warn Riddick that there will be twenty men in this room when you invite him over.

He'll see the mask for what it is. He'll come prepared.

Twenty men! And thirty more in the 'port awaiting orders from J'Pheth.

He'll see something is wrong; he'll come prepared.

Will you be prepared?

Zemma never saw exactly what happened in the throne room the day Riddick killed the Lord Marshal. She just knew Kyra died there too. She should have called up the recordings, but continued to feel a nagging guilt about her role in Kyra's death.

She worried about Nor too. She had thought of Nor as protection mostly because no one would mess with six hundred pounds of armored cat. But J'Pheth could just shoot her unless Nor had reason to attack him from behind. The only command that Zemma had taught her that was even close was 'get him' in Furian, used when they were playing with Mab. Nor would undoubtedly attack anyone attacking Zemma in hand to hand combat, but shot from across the room?

Took too many things for granted.

Have I taken Lord Vaako's loyalty for granted? I thought I was witnessing the acts of an honorable man. But what of Dame Vaako? Was she still in the suite? Was she still alive? Why would he look so miserable and grief stricken? Riddick told you Vaako took the last swipe at the Lord Marshal, the one that allowed Riddick to kill him. It was reason enough at the time to keep him First Lord and Commander despite his wife's attempt at poisoning.

Besides the fact that it was good politics.

So what is his grief? That he killed his wife? Or that he moved against his Lord Marshal, undoubtedly at her urging? 'Victory and duty are all I have left,' he said. Honor was missing; but was it his or his wife's? Or both? Maybe best just to keep an eye on him for a while.

And you thought he looked handsome when he was haggard.

Oh, stop.

How long has Riddick been asleep? He never slept long periods of time. He was probably up by now, showering and dressing…

You haven't actually seen him naked.

In two more hours the first shuttle will be arriving with the fifty faithful. J'Pheth wont allow you to message him until the men arrive.

It'll have to be just before the men arrive. I can't make any kind of indications with forty eyes watching me. And I think I know how to clue Riddick in on the numbers, if J'Pheth isn't in full view.

And Ferrin's things are still in the closet, his weapons. Can you do it?

Not in a stand up fight.

But in the dark?

Yes.

Zemma hummed along with the next song feeling a little better.


	41. And What Art

And What Art

J'Pheth didn't want Zemma to message Riddick live, which suited her purposes. And he saw the value in doing it just before the men arrived, less noise. Twenty men with weapons make more noise than an empty room no matter how quiet they try to be. Zemma had been thinking about the movements her new persona would use, and how she could hide the important ones from J'Pheth.

She insisted on a message vid, saying Riddick was too damn paranoid to accept voice only. And she used her hands more when she spoke, so when she did it in front of the com J'Pheth wouldn't be as suspicious. When he tried to stand too close Zemma reminded him that Riddick was Furian and had more sensitive hearing than most. He accepted this, knowing it was true for himself. That gave her the room and angle she needed.

"Lord Marshal, since you have rejected my," she brought her hand to her chest on 'my' but only one finger landed. "…Advances, I suggest a strictly business…" Now five fingers landed on her chest in rapid succession four times. "…Proposition. I would appreciate the presence of your company this morning." Zemma hit end and send before J'Pheth could ask for a review. He scowled but had seen nothing and didn't object.

Then they waited. The twenty men filed in over the next few minutes, in smaller, less obvious groups. Zemma hoped Riddick was still in his suite, that he wouldn't just come by unannounced. That he could fail to notice this new mask wasn't an issue. She had never called him Lord Marshal, though she had called him Sir in public. The entire message was screaming 'trap!' She had to trust him.

Zemma wandered aimlessly, a skill she had perfected but now she had to do it less obviously and with the required poise. It was easier being invisible, she decided. She needed to get near enough to her bedroom to make a dash for it. Nor followed her restlessly, feeling hungry and no doubt picking up on Zemma's agitation. That suited, she wanted Nor near her.

Time flowed even more slowly than it had all night, but she wasn't bothered by random thoughts and rampant second-guessing now. She was picturing her father's closet, his clothes, his weapons, the ones he specifically did not take with him to Crematoria. She ran through all the katas he had taught her, picturing them now with real targets in front of her. He hadn't taught her enough, she thought again. But they would have to do. She tried to relax to the music still playing softly in the background.

Riddick would know, he would gather what forces he could trust.

"See if he had received the message yet."

Ugh. That took her away from where she wanted to be. But she smiled, "Certainly."

"Message received," she said and had to consciously make her voice greedy instead of relieved.

Praise the stars.

"What's taking him?" J'Pheth was agitated.

"He still thinks he's Lord Marshal." Zemma cooed and faked a Lady Vaako chortle. J'Pheth chuckled back. Twenty men exchanged looks and readied weapons. Zemma counted heartbeats and tried to sway her way back towards her room.

Ten minutes.

Twelve, and Zemma was nearly close enough to her room to feel she had a chance of getting in the door before he shot her when the door com chimed for personal entry. Riddick could enter with just his palm print, without needing to be let in.

"Lights off, lock!" Zemma twitched up her lenses and made her dash. She could hear exclamations of surprise behind her. She hadn't seen J'Pheth use his blue lenses, but even if he could he was the only one of twenty.

Nineteen; that was definitely the sound of someone dying.

Eighteen, seventeen… she was to her father's closet. Oh, Ferrin I hope it's enough. She grabbed the largest knife she had ever practiced with. Sixteen; men were shouting now, trying to coordinate in the blackness. Nor made a horrendous noise, half roar and half pain. Zemma hoped she was all right.

Was that fifteen?

She turned and was confronted by a figure she could see in the darkness. Could he see her? She stopped breathing. She did not see eye-shine but in utter blackness she might not depending on the angle. She moved a foot, trying to make no noise, and let her body follow. He was moving slowly towards her last location. She stepped away again hoping the sounds outside would mask her clothing making any noise.

Fourteen. Thirteen.

She could still hear Nor, and perhaps number twelve falling to her fangs.

Did Riddick come alone or gather the other four Furians he knew?

She stepped sideways again. The figure in the dark did not seem to be following her progress. It was waiting for her to make a noise. She thought her lungs would burst.

Eleven was very near her door. The figure turned sharply in that direction.

Move NOW!

Zemma moved fast, and didn't stay to see if her passing swipe had done more than agitate the figure. She felt the blade bite in, it would have to be enough for now. She ran for the door and the cover of noise, finally able to breathe.

Ten fell dead at her feet and she leapt sideways to avoid tripping. And avoided gunfire from behind as well. No one used projectiles blindly inside a space ship; they were for close quarters and sure shots! Everyone in the room froze, except Riddick. She didn't see any of the Furian Commanders.

Egomaniacal prig!

Footsteps behind her! Zemma backed up against the wall next to her bedroom door. She had one quick shot as he came out or he'd level the room with gunfire. She saw nine and eight go down from the corner of her eye. Then Riddick was moving towards the other side of the door.

Nuh-uh. Mine.

Good girl!

Zemma spun to give momentum where she lacked strength. She was aiming at throat level; she knew his momentum would help too. These men normally fought in armor but J'Pheth wasn't wearing any.

Zemma's blade, shorter than a sword but longer than a knife, bit into flesh and bone deeply. She knew she missed the throat, but had done the job anyway. She let the body carry her weapon away rather than try to hang on to it.

Seven!

Well, actually, J'Pheth made twenty-one.

Shut up!

Riddick was feet from her, she saw the shape of his face change into what was undoubtedly a grin, and a twitch of a shoulder that said, 'Well, ok then.' Then he turned back to the room. Seven men tried to get back to back in the blackness when Nor made the number six. That scattered them again, stumbling over bodies and furniture.

Zemma only watched now. Riddick was far better at this than she guessed. It probably wouldn't look so fluid and interesting with the lights on and blood all over her apartment. But in the dark with her lenses up is was quite remarkable. He was quite remarkable.

Oh stop it.

Nor and Riddick both stalked the last two. It was almost as if they were mates when they turned and looked at each other before the final assault.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright,  
In the forest of the night,

In what distant deeps or skies  
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

And what shoulder, and what art,  
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

End Part 3, stay tuned for part 4...


	42. Victory and Duty

Victory and Duty

"Being Lord Marshal isn't so different from being in slam." Riddick mused as he stood in the darkness surveying the carnage.

Zemma heard the sound of Nor trying to crack a piece of armor to get to the chewy bit inside. It made her feel a little sick inside. It didn't help that the suites had their own air scrubbers instead of just filters and a local scrubber like the cabins had, and J'Pheth had apparently damaged hers making his entry; the smell of blood, bowels and brains was cloying enough to make her gag.

"Food's better." Zemma remarked dryly. Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. The adrenaline was wearing off quickly and she was feeling a little overwhelmed now. She had never been around this much death. She had killed before, but not stuck around to watch the dying.

Told you you would see it differently…

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Food's pretty good here." He paused and looked to her. "And the company aint too bad."

"If you like these," Zemma kicked a dead body. "Thirty more just like 'em in the 'port awaiting orders."

He was flirting with you! Why didn't you flirt back?

Uhm. Now?

Riddick was looking at her look at her suite. She didn't want to know how he saw her now and avoided his gaze. She needed to get out of here, she needed to take care of Nor. But Nor claimed a piece of someone, what piece Zemma didn't look close enough to tell, and retired to the bath with her prize. Zemma hoped that meant she felt all right. She went to close the door to the bath and when she returned Riddick was still in the same place. Still looking at her.

Ask me tomorrow…

Zemma wanted to sit down but there didn't appear to be anyplace not covered in black viscous fluids. The door to her bedroom was blocked by her own handiwork…Zemma looked away from that.

"Does it get any easier?" She whispered as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"You get better with practice." His voice was dry and a little callous. She expected smart-ass comment number eighty-six but he seemed to be restraining himself. Kindness or contempt?

Pull it together, Zem ol' girl. There's still work to be done.

Right, what's the now?

Zemma couldn't stay in the gore-infested suite while Riddick went to meet and greet the 'faithful'. She wanted to get to the security room, and she wanted to call the Furian Commanders to meet Riddick at the bay. Riddick had shrugged one shoulder at this and said something about the more the 'merrier', or was it 'messier'? She turned her back on him and the room to see if her computer had survived. She heard Riddick leave without another word to her and felt another kind of sick in the pit of her stomach.

Now.

She voiced all four of the Commanders at once, since she had only one monitor here. They consented without ordeal to stand by Riddick, she got the feeling he had impressed them. And they seemed eager to take some retribution out on the faithful. She also vid called Lord Vaako, she wanted to see his face. He still looked haggard…

But not so handsome, now.

…And haunted. He agreed to meet Riddick at the 'port as well. It actually made his eyes light up a little.

Victory and duty.

What's he hiding?

Later.

She called for a clean up crew and the vet. Then she walked carefully out of her apartment, and ran the rest of the way to the security room, ignoring the looks of crew as she passed. They were leery of her already and now she was spattered with gore, and running?

Riddick was already outside the 'port, flanked by five armored men, when she got there and focused in on the hall cameras. She actually had both eyes and ears in this section. She isolated the PA for just that section.

"Thirty men, all armored, not counting crew, sir. I can kill the lights in the bay but not the ones on the shuttle. Shall I simply blow the locks and flush them all out?" Zemma was already typing in the command and preparing to hit execute. She didn't really think he would accept the simple answer though.

"What? Spoil my workout?"

That's what she thought. She switched gears and prepared to kill the lights and lock the doors instead.

"Lord Marshal," Vaako seemed ill at ease to address his commander and chief who was dressed so casually in black khakis and muscle shirt. "There should be no projectile or pulse weapons but they came to kill you so we can not be sure." He started unbuckling his cuirass. The other commanders followed suit, taking pieces of their own armor to outfit Riddick.

Riddick waved them off and headed for the door with only the knife that had killed the Lord Marshall, but Zemma locked it. Riddick turned to face the cameras with slitted eyes and a scowl.

"I can still blow the lock, sir." Zemma knew he heard the ultimatum.

You're worried about him.

It's just better for the image.

Each commander approaching with armor saluted and helped him buckle up. Riddick now had greaves on his legs and vambraces from shoulder to wrist as well as gloves. He flatly refused a helmet. He glared at the nearest camera. "Are we ready, now?"

"Sir," R'Ghnell spoke up. "With your permission, I suggest a five man phalanx with center rear guard to protect the formation."

"I'll take center rear, Sir," Vaako added. "And give you the honor of the tip of the phalanx."

"How 'bout you make your formation, stay the fuck out of my way and keep the fuckers off my back." Riddick was rolling his shoulders, irritated with the armor and all the talk.

The commanders looked to each other in silent agreement and took their places.

"Open the fucking d…"

But Zemma already hit the key and switched to the bay cameras to follow the six Furians. She dialed one camera in on Riddick as he addressed J'Pheth's faithful.

"J'Pheth is dead. Your Lord Marshal is dead." His voice built in tone and volume. It was good presentation. "I am all that remains." He didn't call himself Lord Marshal. "Stand beside me in victory, or before me in death." His voice dropped at the last as if he preferred that choice.

Zemma waited with one finger on the key that would now kill the lights, the other to switch the cameras to infrared. Vaako would be at a disadvantage but it would be interesting to see what he would do. She didn't have to wait too long. The faithful were cocky, well armed and armored.

Now.

Riddick and the Commanders waded into the semi-darkness.


	43. Forlorn Hope

Forlorn Hope

The thirty men were not expecting resistance here, but awaiting reassignment to new quarters. None the less they were 'Monger soldiers and so prepared. They leapt at the challenger before them.

Several 'Mongers died quickly beneath Riddick's blade testing the man they had heard about, but not seen in action. Then years of 'Monger tactics took over and Riddick faced a kind of combat he was undoubtedly unused to; a dozen well armored men formed a line, doubled at the ends and pressed forward in unison trying to encircle him. Riddick faced not one but three blades at any given moment, all working in concert.

Three down.

The Furian commanders formed up behind him in an inverted V that brought the ratio back to one on one. The ends of the inverted wedge had more room to maneuver than the doubled ends of the line, defeating its function. The line couldn't bring all its weapons to bear against the staggered formation of superior Furian soldiers. None could stand against them in single combat.

…Eight, nine, ten, eleven.

As Riddick chose his targets the wedge moved with him without getting in his way. They were keeping the fuckers off his back. Vaako, at one end of the wedge, had the longest weapon of the phalanx and used it with precision to keep the line from folding in behind them.

Seventeen….

Men behind the failing line reformed into a square. When the commanders saw this they pivoted and charged the square before it could coordinate, leaving Riddick alone. Zemma didn't understand this move but could only watch. The wedge hit the front line of the block and each man hit the enemy not in front of him but to one side.

Twenty-one.

Zemma saw how it worked now. Parry forward and attack the man looking at the man next to you; he never saw the sword coming. The block split open like a melon. Faster, lighter-armored men at the rear of the block tried to come around to the back of the wedge, but Riddick had seen his commanders move and fell into place protecting the rear.

He ducked the first man and grappled him by the neck as a second tried to dash in behind Lord Vaako. Riddick stepped back with the first soldier still in tow and backhanded the second across the throat with his knife as the man raced by.

Twenty-two.

Another tried to come into Riddick's exposed side. Riddick pivoted with his hostage as a shield. The last thing the man saw was his companion's blade as it struck his forehead.

Twenty-three.

Vaako spun and impaled the surprised and weaponless soldier before he could rearm himself.

Twenty-four.

Three more fell to the point of the phalanx.

Three left. But Zemma only saw two men facing, and falling to, the commanders. She checked her other cameras, looking for heat in the darkness. But there was too much to hide behind in the large room. Just as she called "Twenty-nine" into the PA she saw Riddick's head snap around and he dove for cover. Vaako followed suit but one of the Furian commanders took pulse rifle fire from behind.

Someone was desperate enough to risk holing the shell of the flagship. The bay was too large for explosive decompression; the sensors would compensate with excess atmosphere, unless the hole was big enough or the section of hull in question not quite stable enough; the doors for instance. The shuttle crew, till now only witnesses to ire of their new Lord Marshal, locked down the shuttle. If the doors were weakened by fire they could punch through and…

Zemma couldn't control the shuttle directly but when powered up again it would initially lock into the main computer for auto docking and disembarking. She might be able to slow it down there. She glanced at the cameras again, none of the commanders, or Riddick, was immediately visible. They were stalking the darkness for the sniper.

Zemma found the program but much of the code had to do with things beyond her understanding. She simply added a loop command early in the sequence and hoped it was enough to prevent the skiff from undocking. Then she added a password protect to slow down any canny member of the bridge crew who might thoughtfully fix the glitch. All of the 'port crews had been locked in their cubicles with dead controls from the start.

She went back to the cameras. The Furian on the floor was still radiating a constant temperature so Zemma assumed he was still alive, thanks to his armor. She panned around looking for the rest. Not that she could do anything more useful. Again, the room was too large to slam the pressure like a drum and, would likely only annoy Riddick more, anyway.

You think he's mad at you for not reveling in blood and guts?

And making a point about the armor.

You worry too much lately.

Zemma had a great deal time now to do nothing but watch and worry.


	44. Nature of the Beast

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nature of the Beast

The cat and mouse game seemed to take longer than it probably did. Zemma found herself counting heartbeats but after each brief flash of rifle fire she would find herself holding her breath and forgetting her place.

You really are too much.

I'm just tired. How many days have we been dodging assassination attempts?

Not that many.

I'm just tired.

I wonder how tired Nor is?

Nor!

Zemma was trying to watch all the screens at once, including those cycling through the ship's other's cameras. The little city she'd lived in for twenty years seemed to be running along smoothly, oblivious to the conflict that had so much of her attention.

But she couldn't look into her own rooms; she couldn't check on Nor. And she couldn't help Riddick.

I can't leave yet. Fuck!

Another flash of fire brought her attention back to the screen dedicated to the 'port. After another few tense moments Zemma saw Riddick dragging a body and carrying the rifle. He stood before the shuttle and aimed at its front screen. The shuttle had no weapons; it was merely for transport between ships of the armada.

Zemma could see the crew considering their options. They weren't part of J'Pheth's faithful, but neither had they jumped to their Marshal's defense. Still, they opened the door and knelt before their supreme commander.

Zemma began dialing up the lights a little and unlocking doors and 'port systems. The bay crews joined the shuttle crew on the deck, kneeling and looking frankly terrified. The old Marshal probably would have killed them all but Riddick simply threw the gun down at Vaako's feet and walked toward the nearest exit. His part was done. He left execution, or not, to his First Commander.

Zemma finished undoing her handiwork as quickly as possible and fled back through the hallways to her suite. The clean up crew was still there but not inside. They were standing in a tight group looking nervous just outside her open door. Zemma ran past feeling dread.

The room was far from clean, but the bodies had been removed. Zemma slid to a stop at the partially opened door of the bath.

"Nor?"

There was new blood on the floor. The vet was lying face down but it wasn't immediately clear if he was dead. Nor was lying on her side nearby panting, her wounds from earlier still seeping red. Zemma dropped to her knees and stroked the bloody fur at Nor's mouth. Nor made little rumbling noises in greeting but didn't raise her head. Frothy red bubbles trickled from her nose.

Stupid to leave her alone! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all to hell!

"Oh, Little Queen, I am so sorry I left you," Zemma spoke softly in Furian. She didn't know how long she sat there talking quietly and trying not to cry before she heard footsteps behind her. Probably Riddick, the crew was unlikely to intrude so closely. She ignored him. The time she spent paying attention to him may have cost her friend her life. She couldn't bear the idea, and went on talking instead of thinking.

"Is he alive?" A different voice than she expected, R'Ghnell.

Riddick, "Yes."

"I'll call for a stretcher."

Zemma only continued to talk and stroke Nor's soft belly.

"What's she saying?" Riddick asked quietly. Zemma tried not to hear him.

"She's just…comforting the cat," R'Ghnell's hesitation must have signaled deception to Riddick as clearly as it would have to Zemma. He snorted.

From further behind she heard another voice, W'Rdah:

"'My friend, my only friend, I am sorry I abandon you when you needed me most. I put you in this danger and let my fascination for one who does not need me hurt you. Please forgive me. Please don't die…'"

Zemma snapped her mouth shut and struggled not to cry. No, she had not made any friends, with that man. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Child," R'Ghnell knelt beside her. "The vet's bag has what looks like nano-juice in it. Let's try to give it to her." Zemma nodded feeling numb and sluggish.

I'm just so tired.

She could only watch and hope. R'Ghnell seemed to know as much as Riddick did about the mechanics of the injection but Zemma didn't know if it was too late or not. Her beloved cat seemed to be in shock. Did the vet hurt her more when she attacked him? Or had the adrenaline draining out of her system simply left Nor unable to cope further with her wounds?

It's my fault.

It's the nature of the beast.

I let this happen.

You only gave Kyra the knife. You didn't force her actions.

Zemma clutched at Nor's fur for a moment and tried to ignore the sounds of the men moving the wounded vet behind her.

You can't change the nature of the beast.

"Zemma," Riddick hunkered down in front of her. "We can put her in cryo. It'll give the juice a chance to work."

Zemma looked into Riddick's blue tinted eyes.

You have to accept the beast for what he is.

She nodded.


	45. Juxtaposition

Juxtaposition

Zemma stood with her arms around herself and looked on as they took her friend away.

"Child," R'Ghnell put an arm across her shoulders. "She'll be all right."

Zemma tipped her head into his fatherly shoulder and tried to keep her face and mind a blank.

Just tired.

"Come with me," R'Ghnell led her to the door. "You can't stay here."

Zemma didn't look at Riddick as they passed. She wanted to, she wanted to reach out to him. She didn't see the look on his face. Behind them W'Rdah started yelling at the cleaning crew to get their sorry asses back in gear and quit their fucking gawking.

R'Ghnell led Zemma to his new suite. It was one she hadn't been in before, previously belonging to a displaced…

Dead; the nature of the beast.

…Commander she'd had little contact with. Like all the suites it had the standard oversize architecture and imposing frescos depicting war and painful death. Zemma looked at them with new eyes. R'Ghnell had, however, left on a scene depicting pink flowering trees and statues of cranes standing in stone pools with bright sunlight sparkling off the moving water. It made a peculiar juxtaposition.

He followed her eyes around the room. "It's from Earth, depicting a culture there in a region called 'Japan'. Fascinating combination of war and art going back for centuries. I'm really quite taken with it." He stepped away, leaving her in the center of the room. "When did you last eat?"

Zemma shrugged. "Late dinner last night."

"Join me for breakfast. These early morning combat assemblies you've been arranging for us the past two days have been working up my appetite."

She heard gentle humor in his voice and glanced over to see him smiling kindly.

"Do you have any preferences, Child?"

She shrugged. She didn't really feel like eating but knew she probably should. "Call me Zemma, please. Min is no longer the now."

This caused a sharp look and a raised eyebrow. "The Now?" Then he smiled as he went back to the menu and his voice was musing, "Who taught you about the Now?"

"My Ferrin," she sighed. "He taught me what he could."

"He wasn't a soldier, was he? A politician, if I remember correctly, before he became the Purifier?"

Zemma wrapped her armor around her mind, yet again, for a conversation about her father's inadequacies. "No. He wasn't a soldier before he came here. He was a tech," she said levelly.

"We elected him President, as I recall. Not that we thought very much of the position. A figurehead for technological trade negotiations." He was looking at her very carefully. She kept her face blank.

He's digging for something?

R'Ghnell was smiling as he walked towards her, a flat smile.

Now, what?

"Let's see what else he taught you," he said cheerfully as he pulled his dagger and made a passing thrust.

What the hell?

Zemma blocked his wrist and side stepped. She set into an en guarde stance. R'Ghnell smiled at her and stepped back to face her again. He didn't telegraph his next move and Zemma had to jump back. He smiled again and nodded.

"You're quick enough." He sounded pleased. He tossed the dagger to his other hand and closed on her, still smiling benignly.

What's the nature of THIS beast?

That one was a feint; she saw it coming and dodged his punch. She tried to break his hold on the dagger in his weak hand and ended up in a grapple.

Shit!

"You aren't strong enough for that move, my dear," his voice dropped to one of mild dissatisfaction. "Here," he let her go and stepped back. "Try it this way." He handed her the dagger.

Okaaaay.

She held the dagger in her strong hand and waited, still keeping her face blank. He started to move slowly when he glanced into her face and stopped to chortle.

"You have a lovely poker face, my dear, remind me to teach you the game sometime." Then he went back into position and showed her a variation of the move she had tried. "You haven't the sheer bulk to use most of the basic training your father probably taught you. It puts you at a disadvantage." He repeated the move faster and relieved her of the knife again.

"Now, do it as I showed you," he had barely finished the last word when he made the toss, feint and punch combination. She followed and managed the move but felt clumsy.

"Again." She tossed him back the knife and reset her stance.

He smiled.

"The only problem with the Now," he repeated the movement a little faster, forcing her to not think about the maneuver but only do it. "Is that if you're not busy doing something else it can weigh on your mind." They repeated the move a third time, then he attacked her barehanded.

"You can't do anything to help your pet. You mustn't dwell on it in the Now."

Zemma parried him with the dagger.

"You didn't attack." He shook his head and moved to relieve her of the dagger so fast he was nearly a blur. "You must learn to attack when the opportunity presents itself." He moved again at that blinding speed, attacking straight at her. But rather than the point of the knife he popped her in the chest with the butt of it.

That's gonna bruise.

Zemma stepped back again and tightened her jaw.

R'Ghnell smiled. "Good." Then he moved on her again, forcing her to move faster. When she was too slow he left a bruise with the butt of his dagger. When he didn't like what she did he stopped and showed her a different way and moved on again. He kept up a running conversation:

"Will I have to explain these marks to my Lord Marshal when he sees you naked again?"

Where the hell was THAT coming from?

"No." She kept her voice under control.

"Not good enough. Try it again. How long have you been fucking him?"

Zemma was too busy in the Now to blush. "What makes you think I'm fucking him?" She tried to sound amused and disdainful, while not getting another painful bruise.

"Better… He doesn't love you, you know."

Zemma didn't blink. "He's a beast, he doesn't love anyone."

"Good. What are you to him?"

"I'm just a servant."

"No. You're a soldier."

Zemma barely avoided another painful blow and attacked in the opening he left.

"Better. Who are you to the Lord Marshal?"

"Just another soldier."

"Good. You think you'll be his Lady some day?"

"I think he likes boys." Zemma added the slightly disappointed sneer of 'Monger titillation.

The door chimed for breakfast and R'Ghnell stepped back laughing.

"Very good! Nice embellishment." His eyes were twinkling. "I bet you're hungry now, eh, Zemma?"

"Yes, sir," she smiled back.


	46. An Interesting Turn

An Interesting Turn

"Call me Jaron," R'Ghnell told her.

"Thank you, Jaron." Zemma helped load the dishes onto the table. She didn't feel so tired now, mentally, but she was very hungry.

"You did well, Zemma," he paused. "I think you've probably been doing very well all along." He eyed her curiously but she couldn't read his expression. She wanted to ask him but…

What the hell, ask him.

"What do you mean?" She bit into her eggs and watched his face.

He took his time formulating his answer. "I heard the rumors about you, when your father was alive." He spoke thoughtfully, in between bites of food, never hurrying. "When I heard you were called Min Ferrin I didn't think…" he looked at her frankly. "I thought he was being perverse. It didn't occur to me that you were really his daughter."

Zemma smiled. "'Perverse' was needed to sell the idea. 'The dirtier the better,' he said."

"Yes, well, he understood how people think, I guess."

"Mmn-hmn."

"It didn't gain him any respect."

Zemma looked Jaron in the eye, "Did you pass on promotions to gain respect?"

He nodded, "I guess we did what we had to do."

They ate in silence for a moment.

"When I heard rumors that the new Lord Marshal had taken 'the Purifier's peculiarity' I wasn't impressed. I figured we were bound to have another Lord Marshal soon; Vaako probably."

Zemma was quiet and let him get to his point in his own good time.

"Then I heard rumors about your eyes changing to blue. I gotta tell you, I didn't know what to make of that. There are some strange things in this universe."

Zemma smiled.

"I didn't expect the new Lord Marshal to live a week let alone a month."

"He's quite the survivor."

Jaron glanced up from his plate. "He's not the only one. But Zemma, as well as you've done so far, it will only get uglier and you've got to be prepared. These last two days, attacks have been on you personally because you are the apparent weak spot of the Lord Marshal."

Zemma raised her eyebrows and quipped, "He is not the 'save the maiden' type. I've been selfishly using him to save my own ass." She popped the last bite of her toast in her mouth and gave him a look that dared him to dispute her.

Jaron laughed. "You think so?"

"Hmmnn."

"Zemma you are a charming breakfast guest, and I think you will be an apt pupil. Which makes what I'm about to say easier. I want you to stay here with me. Nor is not enough protection for you."

Zemma smiled to cover her racing thoughts. Had she misread him somewhere along the line? She felt very daughterly in his company and enjoyed that…

Jaron laughed. "There are two bedrooms in this suite. Apparently the previous Lord and Lady had their own peculiar tastes that, while concurrent, did not run to each other."

Zemma smiled more genuinely.

"That's better. I'll take the real smile as a yes, for the good of your Lord Marshal, of course."

Real smile? Huh.

"And this is until you feel I can protect myself better?"

"Or, you and the Lord Marshal quit dancing."

Zemma kept her face and thoughts in check.

"Don't worry, I won't stand between you if you keep it discreet. Now, tell me what you know about First Commander Vaako."

Now there's an interesting turn. What to say?

"Did you know his first name is Trygg?" He was expecting to surprise her.

"That's a Furian name," Zemma let herself sound surprised. But Jaron narrowed his eyes at her. Damn, was she that transparent to all Furians? How did she ever fool J'Pheth?

He saw what he wanted to see.

So, Vaako's mother was alive long enough to know she had a boy and name him.

Or the woman who took him in was a Fury.

"How did you discover that?" She had never actually looked for his first name.

"You already knew he was Furian?" Jaron sounded sure of the answer.

Zemma nodded.

"Does he know?"

Riddick, or Vaako, himself? Well, one answer fit both.

"No, and I don't intend to tell him." Or anyone, for that matter. Pointless.

"So he's First Commander on his own merits?" Now he sounded surprised.

"So far. But there's something… Dame Vaako's missing. And I don't think J'Pheth had anything to do with it."

"Hmmn," Jaron stood to clear the dishes. "That makes me like him better."

Zemma laughed out loud.

"I'll get this," he told her as she stood to help. "Go take a shower. Or a bath if you prefer. There's a robe in there called a 'kimono' that will be much more flattering on you than those drab grays you wear. Then you should get a little sleep while I have your things brought over, and check on Nor."

"Thank you, Jaron."

"Thank you, Child," he patted her on the cheek and she forgave him for calling her Min again. "For making an old soldier's Now a little more interesting."


	47. Appear as a Lady

Appear as a Lady

* * *

Zemma hadn't seen Riddick, or Nor, in days. It was starting to wear on her a little bit.

You miss him?

Yes.

Jaron had been as good as his word. He had her things brought, and checked on Nor daily in the zoo kennel where she was recovering, nicely. But she couldn't bring herself to ask about Riddick. Meanwhile he taught her better self-defense and made her work 'till she ached all over. She practically dove into the bath every evening when he released her from her duties.

"You're stronger than most women and likely some men, just being Furian. Gravity on our planet was heavier than most favored by human stock. But you've got to develop it further, as well as your speed. You're quick, but you're not FAST. Yet."

Zemma had to agree with that; she had seen it for herself. Jaron had complimented her on her dedication to 'become a better soldier.' She had smiled at him thinking about Riddick and Nor, stalking the last two men in her suite and looking at each other just before their respective strikes.

…Like mates.

And then feeling completely inadequate after the queasiness her kill had instilled in her.

'It gets easier with practice.'

Practice meant long hours and lots of bruises. But it kept the Now in perspective. Mostly it kept her from thinking too much about either Riddick or Nor.

"There is no 'future.' Every moment's decisions changes every other possible moment." Jaron took the Now more seriously than her father had conveyed to her. "There is no point in dwelling on the past except to see what it can teach you."

Which sounded a lot like 'deal with it when it gets here' but she had nodded gravely and tried to understand the almost spiritual importance he placed on the Now.

Meanwhile W'Rdah and some of his men became the new Chief of Security and crew. Zemma had to admit she didn't have time right now. Jaron told her she didn't have the requisite knowledge of the common man to do the job justice; she had spent the whole of her life living with Lords and Ladies, and they were a different breed altogether.

That rankled a bit but she couldn't find fault with his logic. She could see a Lord hatching a scheme from twenty paces, but had no idea the entire flag ship crew was on the verge of mutiny, let alone what to do about it. It came as quite a shock when he told her so.

"Most grunts don't care what the upper rank do, as long as it's consistent and doesn't interfere with the consistency of their own lives. But these people have been programmed with an almost zealous interest in their nobles, as a means of salvation. They need to see their aristocracy acting dignified and content to feel at ease and give their own lives meaning."

Hence, the party, and a day off from her new obligation of daily bruises, to heal up a bit.

Jaron had already spoken with Riddick about it. From his tone of voice she gathered it had not been an easy conversation. She smiled inwardly and wished she could have seen it. Jaron insisted she appear as a Lady on his arm. And warned her that recently widowed Ladies would be vying for Riddick's attentions, and a chance to improve their station.

She tried not to think about that part but it was, after all, the point of moving into Jaron's suite. They needed to put some distance between Zemma and the new Lord Marshal or she would continue to be a target. No one mentioned the alternative of just making her his Lady and becoming a permanent part of the Lord Marshal's suite and it's extra security. Zemma herself thought it was an outlandish idea.

Why? Don't you…

Shush.

Don't you think he…

No. I doubt that very much. Now be quiet or help me decide what to wear.

Zemma had a few formal dresses she wore on the arm of her Ferrin, as Min. They were not flattering and not meant to be. They were meant to make people look away. Not horrendously ugly, just not the kind of thing a mature woman would choose to wear. She had giggled inwardly, as Ladies had giggled behind their hands. Fooling them had often been the high point of her usually boring days.

Now these costumes, they weren't really dresses in her mind, were inappropriate and, well, embarrassing.

Jaron had his formal military uniforms. But she imagined Riddick was in a similar bind, as he would need to be outfitted as Lord Marshal. Doubtful that he would want to wear the old Marshal's uniform, even if it did fit. She could not longer recall how large a man the old Marshal had actually been, everything he did was meant to make him seem larger than life. What would Riddick decide on?

What are you going to choose?

The screen before her showed many styles still available from the seamstress.

What if…

No. Hiding in the suite, for the rest of your life, is not an option.

Jaron laid a hand on her shoulder. "Having trouble, my dear?"

Zemma threw up her hands and sat back. "There's nothing here in drab gray," she said facetiously, with a wry grin. Jaron had a warm chuckle that invited you to laugh along with him, rather than Riddick's loud delight. But she liked it too.

"Let's see what you have here…" Jaron commented as he scrolled through pages. "No, you're too tall for that… Much too short for that… Hmn, I don't think that looks very comfortable…Who would wear that, never mind, probably two of them will show up in it… What do you think of that one?"

"Jaron, I think you have me confused with someone who's built with more…"

"No, no, it will have supports that…" he stopped. "Never mind, it will take four hands to get you in it properly if you aren't familiar with the apparatus. What about this one?"

It was off the shoulder, but had sleeves to the elbow; she couldn't quite picture how that worked but apparently it did. The neckline didn't plunge to her shoes, which she considered a requirement. It was backless, which was all right, she thought she had a nice back as backs go, and also didn't plummet beyond where ordinary backs ended. It reached the floor but was open on one side so she wouldn't feel like a pastry. And the color was beautiful.

Silvery blue.


	48. The Dinner

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Dinner

Many long tables were set with a variety of appetizers. Lords and Ladies were already seated, the lowest ranks first. Zemma, on the arm of Jaron, was seated near the head of the table, and nearly last to arrive. Ladies coveted this, knowing all eyes would be upon them, but Zemma felt self-conscious. She had no mask to wear.

Cameras around the grand dining hall captured every entrance, and the populations of all the ships would be watching from their scene-walls; usually just one wall rather than every one.

Zemma hadn't felt the need to giggle inappropriately in weeks but she had to stifle one now. She was very nervous, even on the arm of the reserved and dignified Lord R'Ghnell; he was just another Commander, she was an oddity. She'd said as much before they'd left the suite.

"But, my dear, in that dress you are a stunning oddity."

She punched him in the shoulder and he feigned pain.

"You're getting stronger."

"You're just trying to boost my ego."

"You only need to look in a mirror for that, Child."

She wished he'd quit calling her Min, but he did make her feel good. He'd even agreed with Zemma's thinking that the myth of Riddick would solidify his power in the wake of the destruction of the 'Monger religion.

The lights in the procession hall and dining room were to be dialed down lower than usual and the Furians were all to have their blue lenses up. Jaron had, however, nixed the idea of telling Vaako about his heritage and teaching him to twitch up his lenses. Apparently he had chosen to take his turn at the bridge during the hours of the party.

It wasn't quite dark enough to make the lenses comfortable when the Furians were last arrive in the procession hall and proceeded directly to the dining room. Zemma couldn't wait to see what Jaron had talked Riddick into wearing.

A fanfare of string instruments announced his arrival. Everyone stood and for the first time since she arrived Zemma didn't feel all eyes staring at her. She turned to the foyer…

…And nearly giggled out loud again.

Not that he didn't look regal, and well, sexy as hell, he just also looked completely Riddick. He was wearing black pants and a black sleeveless jacket over a black sleeveless shirt, but that belied its sheer impact. The collar was like the Japanese style collars Jaron favored. The buttons, likewise, were in the same style, in bright gold thread. The black fabric was not matte, but seemed shot through with metallic fibers that caught the low light with subtle brilliance. Even his shoes, not rough brown utility boots, shined.

Zemma wondered where he hid his favorite weapons, but was sure he still carried them. The 'Mongers in the room gaped in bewilderment. This was not how a 'Monger soldier, let alone Lord Marshal, should dress! Where was his ceremonial armor, where were his weapons?

But his eyes glowed in that mythical blue. His stare dared anyone (seemed to pick out everyone in the room and dare them personally) to take issue with their Lord Marshal. Zemma glanced around the room and smiled at the result, then joined the Furian commanders in starting respectful applauds. The room followed suit slowly, but gained in cadence and volume.

Zemma saw Riddick's jaw tighten in what was for him a most outward show of chagrin. He proceeded slowly to the table, nodding in polite acknowledgment to those brave enough to speak to him.

The room grew silent as he took his place at the head of the main table. He stood a moment in the silence and Zemma mentally applauded his self-control. The Lords and Ladies were forced to wait for him. It was subtle, and the timing perfect. Then he sat so swiftly and fluidly that the royals scrambled for their seats, but Zemma and the Furians were unhurried.

Jaron seated Zemma, as a Lady, before himself. She warned herself not to blush and could only hope she was successful. Eating and conversation commenced. Zemma tried not to look at Riddick and found herself looking at her plate more than anything else. Jaron nudged her with his elbow.

"Zemma," he whispered so quietly only her Furian ears would hear. "The Lord Marshal asked me to remind you to have poise," he said in their native tongue.

Zemma stiffened and looked sharply at Riddick. He was turned to one of the other commanders but she could see his eyes flicking her way and the tiniest upturn of the side of his mouth. Jaron had no knowledge of the phrase her father had used with her.

"Zemma?" Jaron had noticed her reaction.

"Jaron, would you kindly dump your soup in our Lord Marshall's lap for me?" She also spoke quietly in Furian.

He laughed. "I've missed something important?"

She smiled and patted his arm. "I'll tell you later."

Dinner proceeded without incident and Zemma felt better as it went along. But she wasn't looking forward to the 'dance' afterwards. Not that she would be required to dance. It was acceptable, and she had danced with her Ferrin when she was younger. But there would be musicians and professional dancers, while most of the nobles simply looked on and socialized.

That is, while Riddick sat on his throne and Ladies contended for his attention.

She was definitely not looking forward to that.


	49. The Dance

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Dance

In the throne room, Zemma was trying hard to stay in the Now; which meant light conversation with Jaron and not speculation about the women surrounding the Lord Marshall.

"Did you assign Lord Vaako to bridge duty tonight?"

"No, he volunteered." Jaron's brow creased a moment. "He hasn't been looking very well."

"He's hiding something, Jaron."

"You think he knows where his wife is." It wasn't a question; and he knew her answer already.

"Duty, honor, victory. Aren't those the tenants of a 'Monger soldier?"

And Vaako implied he's missing honor.

Jaron only nodded once, possibly sharing the same thought. She'd told him of her encounter with Vaako and the impressions she had of him. Then Zemma found her eyes wandering back to the throne. Riddick was leaning into one of the Ladies as if smelling her hair. Zemma's stomach rolled over and she looked away quickly.

Jaron said it would get uglier and to be prepared.

I thought I was.

I thought you said you didn't…

Shut up.

Then what does it matter that he's playing the role you agreed with?

Zemma didn't know the answer to that. Jaron was studying her face. She made it blank with effort.

"I think I'm ready for a drink now." She smiled warmly and put her hand on his arm.

"Zemma," Jaron began in his slow style. "Is there something?"

"Let's wander closer to the musicians too. Do you dance?" She was starting to create the mask she needed now. Detached, polite, gracious. Blank.

More poise, huh?

They strolled towards one of the roving drink carts and Zemma let Jaron choose for her. It wasn't as bad as Riddick's 'good stuff' but she doubted she would ever acquire a taste for it. Still, as she felt it course through her limbs she knew it was doing the 'job'. She felt a little disconnected as they continued their walk towards the musicians.

As far from the throne as possible, eh?

But her eyes kept wandering back. And Jaron was still paying close attention to her. His eyes followed her next glance.

"Zemma," he began again.

"Let's dance, shall we?" Her voice was a little too light, so she tried to bring it down. "Do you dance, Jaron, I mean, we don't have to if…" She smiled benignly up into his face and didn't like what she saw there.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

He was trying to read her and she felt altogether too transparent.

"I can dance," he started doubtfully. Then his face changed as if he'd made some decision. "Zemma, I would be honored to dance with you," he spoke kindly.

Whew. He wasn't going to press her right now. They finished their drinks and found another cart to place their empty glasses. Then he led her onto the floor. He didn't hold her too closely, rather fatherly, and led her inexpertly around the floor. She followed easily.

But her eyes kept wandering…

She couldn't be sure from this distance and through the crowd, was Riddick looking at them? The Ladies were pressing closely, trying to get monopolize his attention. She turned her head sharply and counted her heartbeats till they slowed.

You are a colossal fool, ol' girl. Resign yourself to the Now.

I suspect you're right.

She turned her face up to Jaron, whose face showed concern again. She smiled briefly but he didn't smile back.

"Zemma, I am beginning to suspect I owe you an apology," Jaron spoke softly in Furian.

Detached. Polite. Gracious.

"Whatever do you mean?" She tried smiling into his gentle face again but his expression did not change.

Okay, go for blank.

Blank was easy, blank was very nearly habit.

"You have that 'poker-face' again." Jaron turned them and his gaze went to the throne. "May I be candid with you? And will you be candid with me?"

"Of course, Jaron, I have great respect for you." She let her voice emote the very real truth behind those words. She liked Jaron very much. She liked his presence and she loved that she could talk so easily with him. Her father had become so reticent the last few years.

They danced a few moments more before Jaron got around to what was on his mind.

"I don't mean to be indelicate." He took a breath. "Zemma, how long have you and the Lord Marshal… been lovers?" He seemed genuinely uncomfortable; unlike his testing of her when she first came to his apartment.

Zemma glanced away, but not at the throne this time. "Just the first time…" she shook her head, "Just the once," she amended.

"Oh, Child, I am so sorry. You are still quite the dichotomy in my eyes. You look and act so mature for your youth. I thought you had an established relationship with the Lord Marshal that…"

Zemma had to chuckle at this. "I'm thirty-two, Jaron."

"How old do you think I am, Zemma? Your father was a young pup when we foolishly elected him president of our outback world."

"Jaron, that's silly, you don't look any older than my father."

"You're father no doubt aged prematurely under the stress of his situation." His voice was very kind, as if making up for his last statement. "Child, I am in my nineties."

Zemma stepped back a little to look at him as they danced.

Ninety? Not fifty?

"How?"

Jaron smiled. "We are human stock, yes, but our world has changed us in many more ways than improved senses and reflexes. I can be considered middle aged."

Zemma's mind, clearly in the Now, leapt to the next logical conclusion.

"You still have Furians in your ranks!" No 'Monger soldier lived to old age, and she had seen none old enough, other than the Five Captains, to have been pressed into service at the time of Fury's invasion. Apparently she wasn't the only one who had fooled with dates. In point of fact, why hadn't the Five Captains dates been changed?

Jaron only smiled.

"Is that a 'poker-face'?" She asked him. She had a lot more questions to ask him later. At least 'Now' she wasn't feeling… all those confusing feelings.

It's jealousy, dear.

But there's still Furians in the ranks!


	50. The Gifts

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Gifts

Jealousy and joy were warring in her Now.

Riddick still appeared to be looking at Zemma and Jaron on the dance floor but his hand was stroking the arm of the painted Lady nearest him. Zemma's heart started beating hard again and she tipped her face into Jaron's chest 'till she had it under control.

Furians! There are still Furians! Think on that.

Well, it's hardly more 'now' than what's going on across the room.

"Child," when Jaron spoke in Furian he seemed to forget she hated being called Min. "I'm sorry I misread the situation. I didn't mean to cause you discomfort." He was looking towards the throne, his voice cheerless. "It was my idea to use the Ladies as a screen."

"Jaron, despite my apparent youth," she concentrated on keeping her voice and face unconcerned. "I am in the Now."

That got a smile, and a kiss on the forehead. Despite her inner control she felt tears pop into her eyes for his concern and consideration of her, a total stranger. She tipped her head back into his chest so he wouldn't see.

"If it weren't completely against protocol I'd take you back home this instant."

That was a strange comment!

"Jaron," Zemma stretched his name out slowly. "What's going to happen next that I should be aware of?" She kept her eyes on his face and away from the throne. But a sprinkling of applause drew her attention back there anyway.

A silver cart was being wheeled in, with wrapped presents on top. It was heading for the throne, and the gaggle of women camped there.

"This is my fault, Zemma." Jaron spoke more softly as the musicians and guests all stopped to watch.

Gifts, from the Lord Marshal to the available Ladies. Zemma wished she hadn't had that drink now; or had more of them.

Silly girl. It's all show, why take it so personally?

I don't know why.

Jaron was speaking again; she had to concentrate to hear his words even in the lull.

"They are cloaks. Meant to give anonymity to the Ladies invited to the Lord Marshal's suite."

Zemma's heart lurched. She thought of her cloak, left in the bowels of the ship… how many days ago?

A lifetime.

"I meant it to give you anonymity as well, Zemma. You could go to his suite more or less undetected. Everyone could be watching and still not know which Lady he had called."

But he hadn't called her, had he. Zemma was feeling overwhelmed. She'd never felt such strong emotion, even at the death of her father. But it was similar; it was a kind of grief.

Jealousy, sweetie, plain and simple.

Riddick was not staying to watch the Ladies open their gifts. He was leaving without a backwards glance at her. Zemma watched his departure, one hand still on Jaron's arm.

"I'm not armored there, Zemma." Jaron's voice drew her back to the now.

"I'm sorry, Jaron," she said absently. She didn't look at him but for another drink cart. "I think I'd like another drink."

He patted her hand and led her off the dance floor.

"We can leave now if you'd like."

Zemma only nodded and tried to keep her face blank. She tried not to see the various Ladies trying on their plain black cloaks, as if it were the most precious gift they had ever received.

In the suite she saw a similar package as those delivered to the Ladies in the throne room. But she didn't open it. She walked straight to Jaron's bar but stopped there, thinking better of it. As much as she would like to feel detached, she didn't want to feel sicker than she did right now.

It's not like you've called him to explain yourself.

Jaron made the arrangements. It's the logical solution.

But you haven't even tried to talk to him.

To say what? 'You're the most remarkable man I've ever met, won't you please sweep me off my feet'? Please. He's not the save the maiden type.

He saved you twice.

I had to beg him to sleep with me. He did it as a favor, probably just to shut me up about it. And now I'm reading too much into it and letting it torture me.

Jaron wordlessly came to the bar and poured two drinks. His face seemed to register some discomfiture. Zemma smiled at him but they both knew it was artificial. He returned her poor substitute for a smile with one of his own. At least she knew Jaron cared.

"If it makes you feel any better," Jaron spoke softly into his glass. "He said he knew how dangerous it was for anyone to get close to him. He said everyone he ever cared about died."

Zemma sipped at her drink and didn't comment.

"I think he wants you safe, Zemma. It's why he agreed to tonight. You have no idea how much of a fight he put up over this, 'fucking charade' I think he called it."

Zemma smiled at that and tried to find what Vaako had been searching for in the bottom of his glass not so many days ago. In the hours after she and Riddick had…

"Jaron," she started. But she didn't know what she intended to say. "I need to go for a walk," is what she ended with.

Jaron took the glass from her hand and patted it. "Just go change first. If I find out you climbed into an access vent in that dress I might be forced to take you over my knee."

Zemma looked up at him. He was smiling that catching smile of his. She returned it more earnestly than she had before. "I wont be gone long. There's something that I want to check out." She went to her room to change, still thinking about Vaako and his drink; Vaako and his grief. Vaako, who was, for some little more time, on the bridge.

And she still knew several good access codes.


	51. Dame Vaako

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dame Vaako

Jaron apparently felt better about her going out alone now, since he wasn't insisting she stay in. Or he just felt guilty enough to not tell her no. Either way, Zemma was back in her drab grays and focusing on now.

W'Rdah might be watching, but there was little he could do.

Well, someone had to change the dates on all the Furians hiding behind the screen.

True, and it might have been W'Rdah. But then he might not care that she was breaking into Vaako's room.

Doesn't matter Now. Try the next code.

That one worked. Zemma was glad that at least the guards had been removed from Vaako's doorstep. She let herself into the dark suite, twitched up her lenses, and sniffed the air.

Well, didn't smell like decomposing body in here. Was that a plus?

She could be alive. She could be locked in…

Zemma crept quietly through the rooms sniffing for Dame Vaako's perfume. She always wore enough to choke a cat. But while there was lingering scent, nothing smelled fresh, or potent.

There was a light on in the Lady's bedroom. Zemma was extra careful now, moving like Nor stalked.

Haven't seen Nor in a week.

Shh, busy here.

The door was cracked open and the light was dim. Zemma peeked in. Nothing looked out of place. She listened carefully, holding her breath.

Breathing!

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

Zemma held her position and concentrated on what she was hearing. Just breathing. No movement. Possibly slow enough to be someone asleep.

Were there any Ladies not at the party tonight?

None came to mind.

So, probably not another lover awaiting the return of the First Commander.

So, probably Dame Vaako.

Okay, Zem, decision time. Look, or leave?

Her hand landed silently on the edge of the door. She tested it for sound with the tiniest wiggle. No noise. Good to know the Lady kept the service people busy. Her Ferrin had taught her to leave certain squeaky doors un-oiled.

She pushed ever so slightly on the door and waited again. She could afford to be patient. She counted her heartbeats and kept her breathing under control. And pushed a little further. No noises indicated the sleeper was doing anything but still sleeping.

Take your time.

Breathe. Quietly.

A little more and Zemma could almost get her head in, but she wasn't in a hurry. She wanted free movement when she finally stepped in.

Listen. Breathe. Move a little more. Ten minutes wasn't a long time in the Now.

Eleven minutes, no changes, except the door was wide enough for her to just squeeze through. A little more…

Twelve minutes. Thirteen. Now Zemma could step through easily without brushing the door and making any noise. She held her breath and listened again. Slow steady breathing.

But why is she sleeping with the light on?

You're not afraid of the dark are you, Lady?

Zemma slipped sideways into the room in one graceful step and froze at what she saw there.

Dame Vaako was in bed. Lying perfectly still. With her eyes open.

Zemma didn't breathe; she was wound tight as a spring and ready to do just that, straight back out the door. But the Lady didn't speak, or even move. And as Zemma's eyes took in the scene before her she realized Lady Vaako maybe hadn't moved for some time.

Her hair was in disarray, down from it's usual style and draped across her shoulders. She wore no make up. Her face was a deathly pallor, and her nose still looked freshly broken. These things were enough to make Zemma sure something was very wrong with this picture. But there was more to see in the room now.

Stacks of clean linen stood to one side of the room. Bags of it awaited removal against another wall. Had it been closer to the door she would have smelled it sooner. But there was nothing wrong with the Vaako's air scrubbers. A clutter of empty soup bowls piled up near the Lady's bedside table. She still hadn't moved.

Zemma looked back to Vaako's seemingly lifeless body, dropped her lenses and took a step forward. Was that the tiniest movement in the muscles around the Lady's eyes? Certainly nothing else moved. Zemma looked at the silken nightshirt Dame Vaako was dressed in. It showed some staining and now Zemma could smell it clearly. Urine.

Dead bodies aren't consistently incontinent. And they don't eat, scratch that, they weren't fed soup.

What happened here?

"Dame Vaako," Zemma's voice was quiet and compassionate. She never liked the woman but this was sad.

A little scary, too.

"Dame Vaako, can you hear me? Are you ok?" Zemma couldn't bring herself to do more than whisper as she approached the form laid out on the bed.

Zemma touched the Lady's wrist, the one she had nearly broken… a week ago? The bruising was still fresh as if it had just happened. And her skin was cold. Not lifelessly cold, more like… she honestly wasn't sure what suspension would feel like. But that was the thought Zemma had of the Lady.

Alive, but suspended somehow. She hasn't even healed…

Zemma noticed another unhealed mark. It looked like a puncture wound and it was slightly discolored. Zemma put her hand to her mouth. Was this what the Lady had in mind for her when she tried to hit her with the ring? Was the Lady poisoned with one of her own devices? When?

When Lord Vaako returned from the near debacle on the bridge, I'd bet.

"Oh, Dame Vaako, you didn't. You didn't try to poison your own husband, did you?" Zemma felt very bad, but she wasn't sure if it was for the Lord, who appeared to love this snake, or the viper herself.

Zemma picked up the arm nearest her. Bedsores. And as unlikely to heal as the rest of her wounds.

"Oh, Lady you shouldn't have attacked his honor, and then the man." She couldn't look at the mess Dame Vaako had created for herself any longer. She turned to go…

And felt her heart go cold.

Lord Vaako was standing in the doorway!


	52. One For Duty

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One for Duty

Oh, fuck.

Commander Vaako did indeed look unwell. His eyes were hollows, his hair unkempt. The look on his face, haggard a few days ago, was beyond that now. He looked a little mad. And very dangerous.

But he wasn't looking at Zemma. He was looking at his wife and as Zemma watched his expression softened. The madness, however, remained.

What, is that another Furian trait? We go mad at the drop of a hat? Or is it just this ship?

"MinFerrin, it's only you." Vaako's voice was soft, belying the fear she felt. "I must have left the door unlocked. Careless of me." He walked to the bedside and stroked his wife's face.

He was still thinking of her as Min? Should she use that?

Don't do it. If his mind clears for even a moment, how will you explain?

"W'Rdah said someone was breaking into my rooms." His voice was still rather distant.

Yup, no friends there.

Zemma laid a hand on the Commander's arm. "Trygg," Zemma kept her voice soft but it was her own. He turned slowly to her.

"Trygg, she's got bedsores. We have to move her out of that position. Do you have first aid, so we can clean them? You don't want her to get infected." She was staring into his eyes and hoping her quiet words were getting through.

How in stars could Jaron have let this man on duty? Or did the Commander have his own masks? One for Duty, one for Victory, and one for his Lady? She hoped his mask for Honor wasn't too badly smashed to bits.

How in stars can you even contemplate helping this evil woman?

Just the nature of her beast. But no one deserves this. What if she's awake in there?

Then she'll hate knowing you're helping her.

Zemma smiled. Vaako he didn't return it. He faced his wife again.

"Commander Vaako," Zemma let her voice sound businesslike, the voice she used on the PA. "Are you covered on the bridge?"

He nodded but kept looking at his wife.

Lovely.

Okay, well, it's a new Now. Get on it. Can't have the First Commander cracking up. Wouldn't be good for the myth. Gotta put his broken doll back together.

"Commander!" She tried a whole new voice; it was a spur of the moment mask. She needed his attention and cooperation. Time to play soldier.

"Get a bath started, Commander." Keep it simple. "She can't stay like this and risk infection."

He moved to comply. She'd tapped into his sense of Duty, he was responding to orders. That was good enough for now. Zemma went in search of first aid. She wondered if a jolt of nano-juice would help with the poison as well as the wounds, of if her system was so slowed down that it would be ineffective.

She couldn't find anything resembling what she was hoping for. Probably they just went to the med-lab for every little scrape. Zemma headed for the bar. If Dame Vaako was aware, then this was going to hurt like hell.

Lord Vaako was carrying the Lady towards the bath. She hurried after so he wouldn't accidentally drown her. And faced a whole new problem.

Get soaked, or get naked?

Trygg had laid his wife next to the filled pool and had resumed staring at her. Zemma decided that she wasn't walking home wet and didn't want an audience.

When did you start thinking of him as Trygg?

"Commander Vaako, your wife should go to the med-lab."

For the first time since she thought she was going to die at his hands Zemma saw some animation in Lord Vaako. He turned towards Zemma and shook his head no, and some expression came back to his face.

"She can't. She can't be seen like that."

"Then you need to go and bring back a nano-shot."

Lord Vaako nodded more briskly than he had before. His face was losing that shell-shocked look. For too many days he had been alone with his grief.

Guilt. It's guilt.

Lord Vaako started out of the bath with a more responsive and determined look on his face. Zemma knew from experience that action, almost any action, was solace for a tortured mind.

Like bathing your worst enemy to avoid thinking about…

Shut up.

Zemma looked down on the helpless Lady. "Remember this moment, snake. I don't happen to think your husband is an altogether bad guy. If you wake up from this I hope you learn to value that." She stripped them both down and hauled the woman into the water.

"But I doubt it."


	53. Breathe

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Breathe

The evening wasn't as long and tedious as Zemma feared it would be. She scrubbed the Lady and hauled her out of the tub, poured liquor over her sores, and was dried before Lord Vaako returned. She might not have needed to use the liquor if the nanos worked. But best to be safe.

Right.

Lord Vaako seemed more alert when he returned. He even remembered her name, and thanked her stiffly after they had changed the bed and laid his wife in it.

"Don't let her stay in one position for so long."

"Do you think the nanos will help her?"

"I don't know, Commander." Zemma was ready to get the hell out of there, but there was one more thing. "Do you have the ring?"

Lord Vaako looked sharply at her.

"Commander," Zemma stopped and changed her tone. "Trygg. If I can find out who made the poison we might also find an antidote."

And maybe evacuate the air from the cabin of her chemist.

Maybe.

"I got rid of it. And all the rest of them I could find." His face showed some anger. She hoped it meant he wouldn't let her get back into her old habits. If she woke up.

At least I still have mine.

"Good enough," she nodded encouragingly at him. "Will you," she didn't want to insult this man but she needed some idea. "Will you be all right now?"

He glared at her. But his face softened a bit and he scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. "Yes. I don't know what came over me."

Grief. Guilt. The fog of madness. I think it's this ship.

"Why did you do this, Mi…Zemma?"

Good question. Thought of a reasonable answer yet?

"You're a good commander, Lord Vaako. Don't forget that. The Marshal hasn't." It sounded trite in her ears but hopefully it was exactly what he needed to hear.

Zemma turned to leave.

"You were always like this? You were never…"

"I was always just pretending to be an idiot, Trygg. And you were always kind to me." Zemma was heading to the door. The crisis was over and she wanted to go.

"How did you know that was my name?"

Damn. She was almost out. Well, one more for the myth?

Why not.

"The Lord Marshal knows everything, Commander."

Zemma felt pretty good now that she was out of there. Not for what she had done for Dame Vaako, but the Commander.

What, he gets treated special because he's Furian?

Yup.

You're a softy.

Probably.

Despite the amusing diatribe in her head she knew that an insane Commander would have been very dangerous for them all. Hopefully he was out of the fog.

But I'll still keep an eye on him.

If the Lady recovers you've simply re-created an old problem.

That's not Now.

Any other enemies you'd like to save just to avoid thinking about him?

W'Rdah?

Well, he's no friend. But you think he's an enemy?

Maybe.

Better make sure.

I'll talk to Jaron tomorrow.

Zemma found herself near the Lord Marshal's corridor.

Just found yourself…

Shush, listen!

Zemma heard a woman's voice and faded back into the darkest shadows of the nighttime concourse. It was coming from the Marshal's hallway.

"Will you give me the blue eyes, Lord Marshal?"

What the hell?

Zemma crept closer and angled her head around a statue while twitching up her lenses. A woman in one of the cloaks was standing at Riddick's closed door between the two guards. Zemma froze when the door opened.

"Will you give me the blue eyes, Lord Marshal?"

Riddick!

So they thought blue lenses was a sexually transmitted disease, huh?

The dirtier the better.

"No." Riddick's low rumbling voice sounded as amused as Zemma was right now. "But I'll give you something else." He seemed to be looking over the woman's head, down the hall.

He saw me!?

Zemma popped back behind the statuary, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

He saw me.

'But I'll give you something else.'

Oh, fuck.

Probably.

No! Oh, no, no.

Zemma poked her head out again. The woman was gone. The door was closed. The long hall was empty except for the two ever-present guards.

Zemma leaned back against the wall, out of view of the hall and tried to control her breathing.

Nature of the beast, sweetheart.

Breathe.

Nature of the krugeri.

"Just breathe."

Nor would understand.

"Just breathe and walk home."

She told you to accept the beast for what he is.

"Just walk away."

Breathe.


	54. Fear and Acceptance

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

I'm sorry I've been spelling Marshal wrong all this time, forgive me if I take a few days to fix it through all the chapters.

I just got the book, I'm not very far into it. The armored cats are my interpretation -grin- that's why this is AU -wink-

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fear and Acceptance

"Zemma? What's wrong?" Jaron put his reader on the table.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Nature of the beast.

Breathe!

Jaron took Zemma by the shoulders and led her to the couch he had been sitting on. When he sat down next to her she tipped her head into his shoulder and bit her tongue to control the tears.

"Zemma, are you hurt?"

"No."

"Did you go see Riddick?"

"No."

"Plan on answering me truthfully sometime tonight?"

"Not even if my life depended on it."

Jaron laughed softly. "Why don't you start by telling me what didn't happen then."

"I didn't run straight over to the Marshal's suite and tell him about all this crazy shit I'm feeling because I've never felt it before and can't explain it even to myself. So instead I broke into Lord Vaako's room and found Dame Vaako."

Jaron turned so he could look at Zemma. "She's alive?"

"More or less. Less probably. She must have attacked her husband with one her poisoned rings and ended up on the business end of it instead." Zemma was rushing a bit. "She's, it's like she's frozen. He's been trying to take care of her."

"That explains his look. But I couldn't find fault in his duties so I let him be."

"I tried talking to him a little bit…"

"He caught you there?"

"W'Rdah called him on the bridge and told him someone was breaking into his rooms." Zemma's voice was cold and flat. She wouldn't demand Jaron do anything about his man but at the same time she hoped he would.

"Spyridon doesn't like you, Zemma. He doesn't trust the daughter of the Purifier and someone who has spent her whole life fooling people."

"I can't seem to fool you for a minute."

Jaron shrugged.

"Wait a minute. Spyridon? Spyri? His own mother didn't like him very much did she?"

Jaron laughed again. "Never call him that, or he will stick a knife in you, and I will lose a good man." But Jaron was grinning mischievously.

"Just watch Vaako," Zemma's voice dropped back to business. "We gave the Lady a nano-shot but I don't know if it will help. His mental state is pretty much wrapped around her."

"Which brings us back to…"

"No, Jaron. I'm just a foolish woman with an infatuation for the man I gave my virginity to. Tell me it's perfectly normal and I'll recover my senses in time."

"It's perfectly normal and you will recover your senses in time." He parroted her flatly.

"Now say it like you believe it and make me believe it too."

"Zemma, you feel like my daughter, if he makes you happy…"

"He aggravates the hell out of me when he's not making me crazy."

Jaron didn't comment on this but just kept looking sympathetically into her face.

"No, Jaron. It's not like that. He doesn't…"

'I'll give you something else.'

"He's a beast, he doesn't love anyone," she finished lamely.

Jaron stood up. "It's late, I'm going to bed. Open your box, Zemma."

His voice sounded a little odd to her ear. She'd irritated him with her whining, she thought.

So get over it or keep it to yourself.

Zemma picked up the brightly wrapped box on the way to her room. On her bed she debated opening it. She already knew what was in it, didn't she? Jaron had told her. But he had also told her to open it. The whole 'fucking charade' had been for her benefit. Right?

'I'll give you something else.'

Open the damn box.

She peeled the paper carefully apart and sat holding the lid closed.

What are you afraid of? Open the damn box.

I'm afraid he'll have done something kind and my heart will just hurt more for it.

And what have you done for him? The least you can do is open the damn…

Zemma lifted the lid.

A black cloak. She lifted it out and noticed it was dusty.

HER black cloak, left in the bowels of the ship a lifetime ago.

Oh, Damn it.

Something smaller fell out of the cloak into her lap. She unwrapped it, her heart pounding and her throat tight.

It was a tiny metal figurine. It was a reproduction of her armored cat figurine. Complete with blue chips in its eyes.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

Her figurine was sitting on the table at her bedside. But she didn't place the new one there. She called the lights out, kicked the box off her bed and undressed in the dark; one hand still holding the little cat.

Nature of the beast. Can you accept it?

Zemma cried into her pillow.

What choice do I have? Damn it.

Zemma fell asleep in the silken Japanese style bedclothes Jaron had given her, the gift still in her hand.

And woke some hours later to a strange noise. A figure was standing in her doorway. She twitched up her lenses.

Riddick.

What the fuck?

Zemma didn't say anything but guessed he must know she was awake by the change in her breathing. How long had he been standing there? He was silent as the darkness, had he made a noise to wake her up? She waited.

Riddick didn't say anything but crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed heavily. Elbows on his knees, hands dangling, head tilted to the floor, it reminded her of something but she was too bewildered to figure it out right now. She smelled soap and strong alcohol.

Drunk?

A minute passed and still he said nothing. He picked up her cloak on the floor and turned it in his hands, still looking down.

Zemma reached out and stroked his arm. But he didn't look her way. She sat up and ran her fingers across the exposed skin of his arms. Then reached under his shirt and rubbed lightly at his back.

Guess this means you forgive him.

Can't forgive the nature of the beast.

Just gotta accept it.


	55. Silent As Darkness

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

Skippable PWP, rated R, but entirely without bad language or silly euphemisms.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silent as Darkness

Zemma rubbed Riddick's back under his shirt, then got irritated with it and pulled it up. She alternated between light ticklish designs on his skin and heavy handed massaging. At first he seemed indifferent to her touch but after a few minutes he pulled his shirt the rest of the way off and leaned back into her hands. She let her hands wander around to the front, alternating light and rough there while she laid her head on his back. She sighed.

Zemma heard the soft whisper of the cloak dropping to the ground. She felt his hands lightly caressing her hands and arms as she traced circles across the muscles in his chest and stomach. She smiled and kissed his shoulder blade. Then let her lips and tongue wander lightly across to the other shoulder blowing a little on the wet marks as she went.

She felt him take a deep breath, not quite a sigh. Encouraged, she twisted herself around so she was sitting on her knees and brought her hands back to trace lightly again down his neck and spine. She followed her hands with more light kisses and little licks that she blew on. It meant the silk of her shirt rubbed both his back and her front. She tried experimenting with that, shifting her torso against him a little one way while her hands went the other.

Riddick suddenly twisted around, one arm snaking behind her back and the other catching her face at the jaw line. His face was very close to hers while he looked into her blue tinted eyes. His mouth made a tight line and his jaw clenched for a minute. She didn't know what he was thinking but she wasn't going to let him back out now. When he started to shake his head and pull away she grabbed his face in both her hands.

"Uh-uh."

She kissed his lower lip, then the upper one. She bit very gently at his lower lip again and sucked it lightly into her mouth before coming back for a real kiss. She was afraid he might deny her that, but his mouth parted when hers did. She could taste the alcohol on his tongue but didn't care. She let her hands go back to roving lightly across his skin; the back of his head and neck, across the tops of his shoulders and down his arms.

She felt his hand drop down then come back up under the silk of her shirt. She had to stop kissing him to shiver and take a deep breath but left her lips against his. As he continued moving his hand up and around inside her shirt she had to clutch at his shoulder and neck, her breath against his face a little raspy. The hand behind her found its way under the silk and stroked lightly at her back before pressing firmly there while he laid her back against the bed.

Zemma clutched at his neck to bring his mouth back to hers while he, leaning over her awkwardly, undid the buttons of her shirt. She didn't help him but let her hands wander again, this time using her fingernails. Now his breath matched hers, rasping a little faster as he broke their kiss and lay his forehead against hers.

Riddick finished the buttons and Zemma felt a chill as he opened her shirt and moved his head down, kissing her nose and lips and chin on the way by. She found herself clutching the bed rather than him when he used his mouth and hands together there, and gasping for air. She had to push him away before she lost her mind completely, and though he had a strange look on his face when she did she lost sight of it as she repeated his action on him.

And was rewarded when he gasped as much as she did from the actions of her teeth and tongue. One hand holding himself up over her, the other caught in her hair and clutched there. His lower body pressed against hers and she pressed back while one leg snaked behind him and pulled. The friction was delicious.

Riddick pulled her head back away from him by the hair and stared at her again, this time with a rather predatory grin on his face. She matched it and tried to pull herself back up to him but he held her away. Still, he pressed against her and she reciprocated, closing her eyes and clutching at his neck. He teased hers with his mouth, biting lightly where it joined her shoulder then hovering over her lips without letting her reach his, his hand still snarled in her hair.

Zemma took both her hands and scratched roughly down his chest from neck to navel. This caused him to pull away as he arched his back and nearly growled out his next breath, pressing his hips harder against her. She traced her fingers lightly back along the lines she had made and smiled. He chuckled a little but still didn't let her up. Her mouth was dry from panting and she wished he would get around to kissing her again.

But he wasn't through teasing her. Still out of reach of her mouth he bent forward again, turning her head this way and that with the hand in her hair he attacked her neck and jaw line lightly with his teeth. Zemma drew her fingernails around to his shoulders and dug in, trying to control the rhythm and pressure of his hips against hers with her leg. But he would pull away from her and look down into her face with that grin she couldn't help matching before slowly twisting his body against hers.

Zemma was ready to scream but he hadn't made barely a sound she wasn't going to first. Riddick kept his hand in her hair and moved his head down again, teasing, tasting, testing. She couldn't help panting till she felt lightheaded but she wouldn't make any noise. She finally grabbed his head and pushed him away to regain control, chuckling a little and licking her lips as she stroked the planes of his face. He turned his head into her fingertips but when her breathing returned to almost normal he let go of her hair, captured her hand and sent it down between, where their bodies met.

Zemma sent her other hand after the first more slowly, circuitously and lightly. Riddick arched his back the other way, lifting away from her and bringing his face back to hers where she landed soft little kisses everywhere but his mouth. He chuckled again, turning his face this way and that, sometimes trying to capture her mouth but letting her elude him.

Meanwhile Zemma's hands finished their task and she was pushing his pants down his hips one slow inch at a time and letting her fingers play along the edge. When he would stop and thrust against her she would clutch at him and breath deeply before pushing him away and pulling more fabric away. She had to start pushing his pants with her feet after awhile, freeing her hands to explore again.

Riddick tipped sideways, laying beside her and ran his hands down to the soft waist of her silken trousers while he kicked off his boots and the rest of his clothing. Zemma turned against him while he tugged on one side, then away as he tugged on the other until she was free of them, then threw one leg across his hip and pressed gently. He let her tease them both, one hand under his head as he looked down on her, the other making her want to scream again. He seemed very intent on eliciting a noise from her as she thrashed and twisted against him, chuckling sometimes when she had to catch her breath or tried to push his hand away or his body closer.

Finally Zemma put both hands against his chest and pushed him hard. He let her tip him over onto his back and had to catch his breath as she threw her leg across him again and sat…on his stomach. Zemma bent over him letting her hair frame their faces, lips not quite touching, and slid down the length of his body slowly. At the barest touch she would stop and arch her back, breaking contact. Then she'd start over.

She didn't count how many times she teased him this way before he moaned and grabbed at her hips with his hands to pull her onto him.

"I win," she whispered.

He laughed that laugh she loved but she didn't join in. She was too busy moaning.


	56. Dissonant Truth

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dissonant Truth

"You win, huh?"

"Well, if I let you win, you might not come back for a rematch."

He laughed, loudly.

"I think I'm in love with you." She told him gently.

Dangerous, Zem. Do you want to push him away now that he's here?

"That's not love, that was an orgasm." His low voice sounded slightly amused.

"Orgasms feel great. Being in love with you hurts like hell."

"You can't be in love with me; I'm a murderer and a criminal."

"Which makes you an amateur on this ship." Zemma grinned in the dark.

He laughed again, just once, almost ironically. They were silent a moment. Zemma watched Riddick's face change ever so slightly as the weight of her words were digested, as he realized she wasn't just kidding with him.

"You can't be in love with me. What I am… what I do… made you cut and run to your safe new daddy. You haven't even seen Nor since you discovered she aint a cuddly lil house cat. Once you saw what she's really about."

Ouch. That's true, isn't it?

Yes. I guess it is.

"I deserve that." Zemma whispered. She reached out and stroked his arm in apology, 'I'm sorry' on her lips but…

"You wanna fuck, that's fine. But I'm no more your pet than Nor is. You can't keep us safe from what we are just to keep you company."

Zemma sighed. "Nature of the beast. I'm getting that." She continued lightly stroking his skin in little whorls and designs, and he let her. It was a concession of sorts. He might let her keep _him_ company if she didn't try to change his Now.

The way you tried to change Nor's Now, even just to protect her. If you had let Nor be, she probably would have killed J'Pheth before the situation became more complicated.

I needed to know about his men, though.

Virtually everyone on these ships can be considered 'his' men. They are all programmed to be faithful. You didn't need it.

Zemma sighed. She couldn't avoid her truths any more than Riddick's.

"You can't be in love with me. Everyone who gets close to me dies." His voice was softer than before; more introspective than the harsh reality he'd just slapped her in the face with.

"I have a better track record than 'everyone'." She didn't know how accurate that was, but she planned on making it fact, none-the-less. The maiden would practice till it got easier.

"I'm a loner."

Was he trying to remind himself, or her?

"Leader of an armada… going where, by the way?"

"Something I wanna check out."

"Good enough." She shrugged one shoulder. She didn't care where they were headed or why.

"You think you love a killer?"

"No. I think I'm in love with a killer. Learning to love you will take time."

He didn't comment and there was nothing to read on his face. Perhaps he would let her take the time, then. She fell asleep slowly, her hand still trying to make little motions on his arm. She knew when he left the bed with the lightest touch of her cheek, but didn't wake up. The Now was sleep.

Zemma woke to the smell of breakfast and stretched languidly, holding onto the last little bits of her dreams and memory of the night before. She felt very serene. The philosophy of 'Now' was much clearer in her mind than the day before. It wasn't just about 'deal with it when it gets here.' It was about acceptance, facing truth, and being at peace with it. She hoped she could hold onto that clarity beyond the dimness of her bedroom.

Jaron had some blasted awful music playing, something from his Japanese collection. It was far too 'Monger like for her tastes, and likely for her benefit. She got up and showered quickly, the discordant sounds following her even in there. Then she dressed in her silken bedclothes and left the sanctuary of her room.

"I'm up. I'm up! Can you play something quieter now?" She smiled at Jaron, who took an extra second to look at her face before complying. He was grinning as he turned from her.

"If you say anything that sounds like 'I told you so' I will think of something dastardly to wake you up with tomorrow." She told him as she sat down at the table.

Jaron punched something up with string instruments, her favorite, and light vocalizations in a language she didn't know. Probably Japanese also. At least she didn't have to shout over it.

"If I ask you about opening your gift, would that count against me?"

Zemma thought about it as she spooned up breakfast. "I guess not," she smiled. She wondered how much he knew. Certainly he was aware that Riddick had visited; they hadn't stayed quiet after the first half hour. Did he know about the figurine? It meant a lot to her and she would be disappointed if it had been Jaron's idea.

"Well?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for answers as he dished up his own breakfast.

"It was the cloak he had made for me weeks ago. I thought I'd left it in one of the access vents." She left off there, waiting to see what he knew of it.

"I wondered why it was so dusty. But what was the little item he wrapped up in it?"

Riddick had packed hers himself? Zemma smiled, her mind on the night and not the breakfast before her.

"Zemma, if it's none of my business…" But Jaron was smiling at her, curious.

"It's a little statue to match my cat figurine." She found herself blushing at that and didn't know why.

Jaron looked pleased for her, and thoughtful.

"Ready for more work today?"

Which translated as 'you've had your rest, are you ready for more bruises?'

"Yes," she laughed. "But there's something else I want to learn, if you can help me?"

Jaron looked warily at her, but was still smiling. "Yes?"

"I want to learn to fly."


	57. For Now

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**For Now**

"You won't like my preference of teacher for that task." He looked at her sympathetically.

"Oh… W'Rdah?"

Jaron nodded. "'Don is a good man. Might be good for both of you."

Truth. Acceptance. Peace.

Zemma nodded.

"But that doesn't get you out of MY training. You're improving a great deal and I'm curious where you will top out at."

"At least W'Rdah won't leave bruises."

"Don't be too sure of that!" Jaron told her with a wink.

Lovely.

Jaron, as usual, taught her more about the Now as he taught her more about fighting style. It made more and more sense to her. Not just in herself but how the Furyans had managed to sidestep the cleansing, even before her father began tweaking the controls. And just how devastating the scientists' manipulation of Furyan women had been. That had been out of her father's control entirely, and his motivation for risking everything to help her escape it.

Not all Furyan women ended up on the breeder ship. There were many in the ranks of soldiers, as hidden away, and sterile, as their male counterparts. But those that were left in the hands of the scientists had their minds brutalized to make managing their reproduction easier. Had they been soldiers- perhaps some, like Vaako's mother, were- they could have survived the cleansing within the Now.

The cleansing worked against your will, to program. The harder you fought it the more perfectly it converted you. Truth, acceptance, and peace left the message of the cleansing in you like a document, to be read and understood but not a command. The Now was a directive that left you able to function in the face of anything.

Zemma wondered if it was the lack of the Now that had led her to brief madness, and if Vaako was suffering from the same ailment at the loss of his religion. And speculated how Riddick seemed to possess it so naturally. The Now wasn't a spiritual place, as she first considered it. It was pragmatic outlook on the universe taken to its most literal and extreme conclusion.

In other words, Riddick's no-nonsense attitude was the perfect reflection of Now.

'It gets easier with practice.'

Indeed. No remorse, no guilt. If it was necessary NOW then it was always necessary and so inevitable. Not fate, but acceptance of the truth.

Zemma suddenly wanted to see Nor again, and ask her forgiveness, in her own way, for trying to manipulate the very essence of what Nor embodied because she, Zemma, was afraid to lose her to the Now.

Nature of the beast.

'When thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand forged thy dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?'

She got that now. What hammer could alter the beast? What chain could hold it? She didn't think she would make that mistake again. Tiger, tiger burning bright… she wouldn't try to smother that light.

Zemma smiled at the little unintentional rhyme.

Jaron stopped mid-swing. "Something you want to share?"

"Would it be all right if we brought Nor back here? I can fill in the whirlpool in my room for her to use as a toilet. I…miss her." She didn't know why she was reluctant to say so. Obviously he knew she loved the old cat. But she was here by his design, for his purpose and perhaps Nor was counter to that?

Stop worrying so much, it's not consistent with the Now.

Zemma considered that, yes, the worst he could say was no, and she would somehow solve the problem of seeing her if he did.

"Do you think she's trainable?"

"Oh, cats are very clean, they want to use just one area and not soil their den…"

"No, I mean, do you think you can train her to fight with you?"

Zemma smiled brightly at this. "With your help, I don't see why not."

And so her days would be filled with not one but three training programs. Even the promise of having to spend time with W'Rdah did not daunt her. To learn to fly!

Not much time to learn to love him as you promised.

Time enough. The Now dictates.

He fears you being too close, anyway. Until you can prove yourself a fit companion you are regulated to …

…(fucking)…

…concubine again.

Zemma smiled to herself. She would live with that. For Now.


	58. Time Enough

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

This chapter is Rated R but is not strictly PWP, it's pertinent to the character arcs.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Time Enough

The first week of her extended training left her exhausted beyond the point of thinking. Jaron was clever about how to start training Nor. Nor responded willingly enough to him as long as he spoke Furyan, and they would not teach her in any other language. With Zemma, Nor was more enthusiastic.

W'Rdah was not, however. Still, he did acquiesce to the request of his friend and Zemma found herself in a training simulator… and getting knocked in the back of the head every time she wasn't perfect.

Acceptance… peace…

She didn't complain but one particularly energetic clout caused the helmet she was wearing to smash into her nose rather painfully. Jaron had frowned when he saw her that night but neither spoke of it. The next day's lesson seemed calmer, if not less acerbic.

Peace.

By week's end W'Rdah was cuffing her less and less.

Six days since she had last seen Riddick but her heart didn't hurt as much as it had before she faced her feelings for him.

Truth. Peace. Now.

And Now was very, very busy. She didn't even have time to follow the politics and Jaron seemed reluctant to speak of it. Still, she thought she could guess what he wouldn't tell her. Riddick was putting distance between them.

So it was no surprise when she saw a cloaked figure walking purposefully in the direction of the Lord Marshal's quarters.

Acceptance.

Truth.

Peace.

Damn it.

Peace!

It _was_ a surprise to have Riddick visit her again that night, smelling of soap and liquor. Zemma made no move when she woke to his presence in her room. Nor made her greeting noise and climbed off the bed where she had been sleeping at Zemma's feet. Zemma waited for the Now to play itself out.

Riddick patted Nor on the head as she left the room, then crossed it and sat on the edge of her bed. He was almost vibrating with tension. Zemma reach out to him but he caught her hand before she could touch him and pinned it to the bed, still not looking at her. Zemma waited.

Riddick turned on the bed to regard her and she looked back peacefully with her lenses twitched up. She tried to turn her hand so she could wrap her fingers around his but he tightened his grip until she stopped. Then he moved her hand and changed his grip to his other hand. With the free one he threw back the covers, exposing her. Zemma smiled, but he returned it with a cold look, a predatory look.

She mentally shrugged to herself. If he was angry with her she couldn't know why until he bothered to tell her. If he was angry at something else she was willing to help him forget about it.

With his free hand he was feeling her body, the other still had one of hers pinned to the bed. Zemma reached for the buttons on her nightshirt but he pulled it away and pinned it too. He was now leaning half over her, face to face with her hands unmoving near her head. He was searching her face for something.

Fear? Was he looking for fear? She could have laughed out loud at the idea. She hadn't feared him even in the beginning; she mostly feared herself and her own uncertain feelings. She kept her face blank and waited in anticipation of the Now.

Riddick's head dropped down quickly to her exposed neck and he bit her hard. Zemma gasped but when she tried to rub her cheek against him he pulled away and looked at her face again. She quirked her mouth and spoke in a harsh whisper in Furyan.

"Get on with it, you colossal prick, what are you waiting for?"

He recognized a few of those words. His eyes narrowed. Zemma restrained a smile.

Gotcha.

In a flash he was no longer beside her but astride her, still holding her down, still staring at her with his unreadable blue eyes. She stared back with hers. If he wanted to impress upon her that she was merely fuckable and not loveable she was far from offended. She recognized a mask when she saw one.

If he gave her the chance she was going to bite him back SO hard.

He pushed her hands together above her head where he was able to hold them both in one of his. Then, one hand freed, he ripped her shirt from her. He handled her roughly and she tried to twist up to bite him but only succeeded in gnashing her teeth. That almost put a smile on his face, a grim one at any rate.

He had to know she was just playing back, right?

Zemma bucked her hips up against him but Riddick was too large to be moved. He forced his legs between hers and kicked off his boots. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him tighter against her. The low rumble in her throat could have been a growl or a moan.

Though awkward for a moment while he still held her hands together, they were finally liberated of their clothing. Zemma matched Riddick's fervent movements with her own ardent ones. At some point she noticed he had freed her hands but was too occupied to do more than clutch at him.

Release was excruciating.

Sweating, hovering above her, looking down, Riddick's face was unreadable as before. Zemma arched up and caught his face for a kiss. And bit his lip till she tasted blood.

He didn't seem to mind as he kissed her back.

Neither spoke. And when Zemma woke in the morning he was gone.

Time enough.


	59. Lady or the Tiger

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

Adult Content: rated R

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lady or the Tiger

The second week was as Riddickless as the first. And equally tiring. But W'Rdah had come so far as to actually speak pleasantries to Zemma, and Jaron was landing fewer bruises on her. He said he was pleased with her speed but she wasn't gaining strength as fast as he would have liked. So he added more training, this time with heavier weapons.

Nor's training was slow, they had to teach her each step a piece at a time. First with food rewards and praise, then just praise. Nor seemed to enjoy it; she was more active than Zemma had seen in years and her color was brighter. Must be the catharsis of the Now, Zemma thought.

Politics continued as usual. Another faithful Lord died at Riddick's hands. Jaron planned another event. The mood of the ship's crew was far from stable. But the soldiers on board seemed jovial, strangers in armor smiled at her in the halls; Furyans, slowly replacing the original flag guard. Another set of blue eyes joined them at the Lord's Table. The myth was spreading, but the balance of power wasn't in their favor yet.

And Lord Vaako was still an enigma. His work was unimpeachable, his attitude beyond reproach. But he continued to look haunted. Not worse, but not greatly improved. Zemma hesitated to invade his rooms again to check on Dame Vaako's progress. She wouldn't speak to him publicly about it.

Hesitation isn't conductive to the Now. Solve the equation.

Damn it.

Now her pilot training was invading her private thoughts as well. W'Rdah might actually have smiled at the idea.

Zemma decided on a course of action, she called Vaako. He didn't seem taken aback to see her face.

"Yes, Lady Zemma?"

This surprised her, and she had to clamp down on her expression lest it show on her face. No one had called her such a thing, ever. Riddick didn't seem to actually use her name. Jaron called her Zemma consistently now and W'Rdah, naturally, called her MinW'Neta. Vaguely disrespectful, since she wasn't a child and yet he refused to use the adult version, NeeW'Neta. Virtually no one else spoke to her.

"Lord Vaako," Zemma fell back into the careful politeness she had used with him before she had broken into his suite. "My apologies for not inquiring sooner about the health of your wife. Has she improved?"

Vaako's face tightened slightly at the eyes and jaw line. "There have been some hopeful changes."

Zemma kept what Jaron referred to as her 'poker face'. Vaako was clearly lying to her, but his words were so vague she had no way of knowing which way he was hedging the truth. Either his wife was greatly improved, and he was hiding her menace from Zemma, or she was failing and so with her would his sanity.

"That's wonderful news for you, Lord Vaako." Zemma was purposefully as ambiguous as he. But she tinged her voice with as much elation as she could summon. Now she wished she had decided to have this conversation in person so she could read more of him… and look around his rooms. But that was beyond the Now.

"If there's nothing else?" Curt. But that wasn't entirely out of character for him and it told her nothing new.

She needed to end this in his good graces, in hopes of getting into his suite later. "No, Commander. I am at your disposal." She bowed her head slightly to acknowledge his rank and appease his sense of dignity. He signed off before she did leaving her pondering the brief encounter.

Oh, Dame Vaako, I should have drowned you when I had the chance.

Never did find out what poison the ring holds.

Never going to have time this month. Share it with Jaron?

What would he know of poisons?

Who else might have the requisite know how? Or the skills to find it?

Zemma smiled at the excuse to see Riddick.

Don't really need an excuse, you know that.

Just part of the dance.

Zemma didn't want to call this time. She got her cloak.

You're relishing this too much.

It was a good thing she was hooded because she couldn't wipe the silly smile off her face until she got there. The guards at the Lord Marshal's door didn't give her a second glance, but she wasn't prepared for the smirk they gave each other.

"He isn't in," one of them told her abruptly.

She didn't bother to reply. Her handprint still opened the lock.

Nothing had changed inside. Riddick had made no effort to make his residence more personal except to keep the lights off or very dim. She wandered through the suite thinking about her time here, her past life it seemed like.

She was just meandering back towards the front of the suite when she heard the door open and a female voice.

"Will you give me the blue eyes?"

Fuck.

Now what, Zem?

They hadn't come around the curving inner wall yet. Zemma faded into the bedroom before realizing her mistake. She should have darted back to the bath. Zemma arrowed for the furthest closet.

And left the door cracked open just a little once she was inside.

This is insane, Zem, he notices _every_thing.

Sounds like he plans on being distracted. She could hear his low mumbled voice, slightly slurred. Drunk? Again? What's the appeal? What does he do with them?

Then she was holding her breath and her heartbeat in check.

"Been a long time since I smelled beautiful."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Zemma sniffed a little at the air and had to pinch her nose. Apparently Lady Vaako wasn't the only one who preferred to wear enough perfume to choke a cat.

Riddick had his back to the closet Zemma was hiding in, walking backwards and escorting the latest leading Lady towards the oversized bed. The woman was giggling slightly but thankfully not asking that stupid question again. Just another non-speaking extra on the stage of life.

Riddick sat at the foot of the bed and pulled the svelte Lady towards him. If he'd looked to his immediate right, he might have seen the glint of Zemma's eyes. But he was apparently engrossed in the fabric under the cloak.

Yeah.

Riddick's hands moved up and down and back up again, pushing on the Lady's shoulders he forced her to kneel while she…

Zemma held absolutely still. This was new! But while her mind reeled, her stomach churned.

Acceptance:

She couldn't stop what was happening. She wasn't sure she wanted to, she'd never seen…

Truth:

You got yourself into this mess. Your Now is to not get caught in it.

Peace...

But something else caught her eye. The Lady's hand, something didn't look right. Zemma recognized it immediately. A ring was being turned carefully; something tiny glinted where it shouldn't in the darkness.

Now!

Leaping out of the closet might startle the Lady into action, and delay Riddick's reaction…

"Poison…" Zemma whispered so quietly she was afraid it wasn't enough. Oh damn it, let it be enough!


	60. Gotcha

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Gotcha**

Riddick's reaction was immediate. He threw the woman away from him, stood and buckled his pants in a blink of an eye. He didn't turn to look directly at Zemma but cocked his head so slightly towards to closet that she knew he was aware of her now.

"Poison ring," Zemma whispered, again in a voice no one but a Furyan would hear.

Riddick moved on the now cowering woman and grabbed her hands. He could see the ring now. He ripped it off her finger and the woman screamed in pain.

"How did you know?" The Lady hissed at him, angry and scared.

"The Lord Marshal knows everything," Zemma whispered, thinking about the myth.

Riddick's jaw tightened and his head turned a millimeter towards her. It was clear to Zemma he didn't think he need her coaching him.

"I'll ask the questions." His voice pitched in such a way Zemma knew he was talking to her too.

"Blasphemer! Breeder! There will be no glory for you in the Underverse!"

"Isn't that where you were planning on sending me?" His voice was casual as he toyed with the ring.

"You don't deserve to cross over. You deserve only to be trapped in this 'Verse forever in an unmoving husk, with only your blasphemous thoughts to keep you company."

That sounded a bit like a prepared speech to Zemma. It must have sounded like something else entirely to Riddick. He descended on the woman in a blur of speed and pinned her to the wall by her neck, a foot above the ground.

"Who sent you!" He bellowed.

Zemma had never heard him that angry. Interesting.

Apparently Riddick wasn't planning on getting an answer because the woman was choking beyond any ability to speak.

"Don't kill her, asshole." Zemma's whisper barely carried above the noise the Lady was making.

That turned Riddick's head sharply towards her. Zemma decided this business had gone on beyond the ridiculous. She stepped out of the closet and regarded him coolly. The Lady was no longer consciously fighting for air but her body was still gasping. Riddick threw her, cataleptic, to the ground.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck you're doing here?" He was still pissed and now it was all focused on Zemma.

"I came to talk to you about a poison ring," she held hers up. "But I guess you have one of your own now so I'm obviously not needed here." Zemma found herself getting mad right back and had to fight for control of her voice and face. She started walking towards the door but Riddick blocked her path.

"I'm not done asking questions." He was trying to menace her, his voice low and dangerous.

Zemma was shaking, but not with fear; adrenaline was coursing through her.

"Fuck you." She managed a smile but doubted it looked anything like one.

Riddick reached for her but Zemma was ready. She knocked his hand away with the points of two fingers, hoping it stung him where she hit the nerve in his wrist. He was three times her mass, easily, and doubted she could do more than annoy him even with the moves Jaron was teaching her, but he wasn't laying a hand on her.

A different look came into Riddick's eyes. He didn't think he was going to be thwarted by a wisp of a woman who's measure he'd already taken. He reached again, faster. Zemma was wound up tight and easily outmaneuvered him. But she wasn't any closer to the door.

You're gonna run outta room, sweetie.

Got any suggestions?

Zemma attacked him. She knew she couldn't hurt him, easier to hurt a bulkhead -the man was built like a wall- but if she could get him to blink she would be gone.

If he lands a blow on you, ol' girl, you're going to feel it for a month.

He won't.

He didn't. He didn't even try. His anger was replaced by that feral grin he had used the last time she saw him. She matched it again. But it was her mask this time.

Riddick blocked her blows and tried several more times for a handhold on her. Zemma stayed out of his grasp, barely. She was not having fun. She knew she wasn't fighting for her life, per se, but it felt like it anyway.

You're fighting for your dignity.

Zemma didn't have time to argue. She wasn't getting any closer to the door, even if she wasn't losing more ground.

"Is this what you do before you come to see me?" Zemma raised her chin towards the prostrate body of the still unconscious Lady.

Riddick blinked.

Gotcha.

Zemma popped him in the nose. It wasn't quite as satisfying as the one she landed on Dame Vaako, and she suspected he let her. But she didn't stick around to find out; she was slipping by him and out the door in a flash. The door to the suite opened at her command before she reached it and she was flying down the hallways, cloak trailing her.

She pulled the hood up so no one would see her tears.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.


	61. Conflict

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Conflict**

Conflict keeps you from being in the Now.

Oh, shut up.

Zemma pulled off her cloak before she got to her door, and balled it up under her arm. Still, she hoped Jaron wouldn't be there to see it. She didn't want to explain anything. She wasn't sure she could.

Nature of the beast, remember?

Shut up.

The suite appeared empty but for Nor, who leapt up to greet her mistress but seemed to pause at Zemma's mood. Zemma made herself stop and reassure her friend with pats and strokes and soft words. It made her feel better too.

"Nor, I'm not like you, I wish I was." Zemma spoke quietly in Furyan. "I wish these feelings would go away and I could just focus on the moment."

"What moment is that?"

Jaron.

Damn it.

"I thought you weren't here."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Zemma sighed. She didn't want more unintentional conflict. She apologized rather formally.

"Zemma, you can talk to me if you want to."

"I do. I really do." She explained the last hour from Vaako and the ring, to Riddick and the 'blue eyes' comment. She took a deep breath to finish but was interrupted by Jaron's laughter.

"I'm afraid I can see the rest of this coming…"

Zemma smiled and looked up at him from the floor for the first time, a slow grin spread across her face. "Oh, no, it gets much more ridiculous…" She continued the story, feeling perspective come back to her.

"Another poison ring, eh?"

Zemma nodded.

"And you think he let you hit him in the face?"

"Jaron, I've seen him move. I'm nowhere near as fast, no matter how much you flatter me."

"Then I trust your intuition. Plan on taking it as an apology?"

Zemma sighed. That was where her conflict lay. "Probably."

Jaron nodded, either as if it were expected, or he agreed, Zemma couldn't tell. Possibly both.

"Still mad?"

"Just sick, haven't got time for mad. Jaron, whatever chemist made Dame Vaako's ring has found new clients. And Riddick reacted very strangely to that Lady's words. I have to go back and talk to him."

"Yes," Jaron spoke slowly. "We do."

The comm. beeped for attention with the bridge signal. Jaron responded to it immediately.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sir, that ship the Lord Marshal has had us looking for, we've found it."

"Good…"

"No, Sir, there's more… more of the ships…"

A view of space and a cluster of strange looking ships glowing in the blackness replaced the bridge commander's face. Maybe a hundred, it was hard to tell. Instrumentation probably told the bridge exactly how many but it was sufficient to say there was a lot of them.

"Sir," the commander's voice cut over the view. "The Lord Marshal isn't answering his comm."

"Shit," Zemma whispered.

"I'll take care of it," Jaron told the commander and turned off the comm. "It's Now."

"Apparently so," Zemma answered him.

At the Lord Marshal's door Zemma was surprised to discover her handprint didn't open the door immediately. Jaron arched an eyebrow at her but Zemma was undaunted. She still remembered the change of authorization code used to make this suite respond to Riddick on the first day she met him. That and her handprint opened the door.

"You could have just knocked." Riddick's voice was droll.

"You haven't been answering your comm.," Zemma smarted back to the darkness in the direction of his voice, somewhere in the sitting area. She twitched up her lenses but didn't look at him. She walked to the comm. and called up the message, pausing it at the view of the armada of ships. When he didn't come look at it she put it up on the scene walls, it made the room nearly bright. Riddick hissed but Zemma didn't apologize.

"There's been a development, Lord Marshal," Jaron's voice was all business.

"Is that what you've been looking for?" Zemma kept her voice neutral.

"Hmmn," Riddick mused. "Not exactly. But it'll do."

"Time to hamstring the Tiger." Zemma spoke in a whisper but she was clearly heard.

Jaron looked at her curiously, but from his position Riddick only smiled as he examined the pictures of the force ahead of them.

"It'll do," he repeated.

"Jaron, how many Furyans have you got transferred here, roughly?" Zemma's mind was already leaping at the possibilities.

"Not quite half of them."

"None of them are to join into this battle, I don't care how you make it happen." Zemma sat down at the computer and started punching in commands. "Damn it!" She punched in something else and spoke to the comm. "Damn it, 'Don, quit fighting me, I know what I'm doing."

W'Rdah's face appeared in the display, it changed from slightly annoyed to blank as Jaron's face appeared over Zemma's shoulder. Then the display turned off and Zemma sighed. "Thank you."

"What are you doing that has Don in a bunch?" Jaron asked.

"I'm locking Vaako in. His forces are going to have to go out without him. I don't trust him. Okay, you can start issuing orders from here and it will be as if they are coming straight from the Lord Marshal." Zemma gave up the seat in front of the computer.

Jaron glanced at Riddick who merely shrugged his acquiescence. Jaron took his place, called W'Rdah back and explained what needed to be done.

"You ready for this?" Riddick's voice was blank.

Zemma shrugged. So far the odds had been something like five hundred thousand against five. Releasing a vast number of the faithful to their final reward seemed like a fine idea to her. As long as Furyans weren't in the ranks…

Another thought leapt to mind. Once the Tiger was crippled, was Riddick planning on leaving?

'You ready for this?'

No. No, I'm not.

"I thought I'd have more time," Zemma spoke softly, looking straight into Riddick's eyes.


	62. Never Hesitate

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

**Never Hesitate**

Fuck this.

Zemma strode over to Riddick and faced him, hands on her hips. He was still unreadable. Behind her she could hear Jaron issuing orders and barking at 'Don W'Rdah.

"You'll never have this much fun anywhere else." Zemma didn't quite whisper as she inclined her head towards Jaron at the computer.

Riddick's mouth twitched slightly at the corner. Zemma smiled back. She stepped a little closer and reached for his face. He tilted his head down a little. She gently touched his nose; she hadn't even left a mark on it.

Damn it.

Riddick reached for the collar of her shirt. His fingers went behind her neck and his thumb rubbed the not quite faded bite mark he'd left there a week ago.

"Don't make me chase you all over the universe." Zemma's fingers lightly stroked his cheek.

Riddick tilted his head back and chortled softly. "You make me laugh." His face finally showed some animation as he looked back down on her. "I guess I'll stick around awhile."

Zemma tipped up on her toes and kissed him thoroughly.

Jaron cleared his throat behind her. "The other fleet isn't interested in engaging us, Lord Marshal. They say they are only on a rescue mission."

Zemma started to pull away but Riddick bit her tongue. His eyes, so close to her, glinted mischievously before he let her go.

Control freak!

But Zemma smiled.

Riddick became all business as he approached Jaron at the computer. "The owner of the ship they're looking for made the mistake of crossing me five years ago. She got her head blown off. You might mention that."

Zemma didn't stick around to see how annoyed Riddick could make the commander of the other fleet. She had confidence in his abilities. She had business of her own, if Riddick hadn't already sent the tart on her way.

He hadn't. Her Ladyship was bound in strips of her cloak, a pillowcase over her head. Zemma bit her tongue to keep from laughing. She picked up the woman and sat her on the bed before pulling the pillowcase off. The room was dim, only ambient light from the scene of the fleet coming from the living area. Zemma called the lights up a little so the Lady could see her.

"Do you know who I am?" Zemma kept her voice low and calm, her lenses up for effect.

'Give me the blue eyes,' ha!

The woman nodded, her eyes wide over the gag. Zemma pulled the ring from her pocket.

"Do you recognize this?"

The woman nodded again.

"Do you want to see the Underverse sometime in your future? Or do you want to spend the rest of your days like Lady Vaako? Alive and trapped in your own body?"

Zemma didn't think the woman's eyes could get any wider, but they managed to. So she didn't know about Dame Vaako, and probably didn't get the ring directly from her, at least since her unfortunate accident. Better to double check.

"Did you get your ring from Lord Vaako?"

The woman shook her head 'no'. Good.

"Did you get your ring from Dame Vaako?"

No again. Well, that's what she needed to know. There are other players to find, and maybe hurt a little.

"Did you come here on your own?"

The woman hesitated. That was all Zemma needed, she moved on quickly.

"Did someone send you?"

She nodded briskly. Naturally, the impulse to put the blame on someone, anyone, else made her very enthusiastic to take the way out. But Zemma doubted that any mastermind of treason would speak directly to this puppet. There would be middlemen… or middle women, more likely.

She wondered how many she would have to go through before she found the Chemist. Zemma put the bag back over the Lady's head, tipped her backwards onto the bed with one hand, and went to see how the negotiations for war were progressing.

Jaron looked grim. Riddick looked amused. Zemma took that as slow going.

"They aren't human, they just get some perverse pleasure looking like us." Jaron was looking up information on their potential foes.

"Perverse pleasures must be an inherent trait… So you think inviting them to dinner is the logical way to induce war?" Riddick sounded as bemused as doubtful.

"They want to see if we're worthy of combat. Otherwise they won't bother and we'll waste resources chasing them until we have a real mutiny."

Riddick didn't hesitate. He never seemed to hesitate.

"Let's party."


	63. The Other Shoes

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

**The Other Shoes**

Arrangements were made. Lord Vaako's suite was released without his ever being aware that he was locked in. W'Rdah continued moving men and reordering units to suit their purposes. The Lady was removed from her cocoon but not her bonds, draped in her cloak and escorted out by Jaron, who had questions of his own.

Zemma started to follow them out.

"Where do you think you're going?" Riddick's voice was half question, half command.

Zemma nodded towards the cloaked figure. "I'm sorry you missed your appetizer but dinner isn't ready yet." She grinned to take the sting out of her words and turned to leave again. She felt Riddick's hand clamp down on her arm.

"Door close. Lock." Riddick wasn't smiling.

"Door open." Zemma retorted. When it did, she turned a level stare on Riddick.

Riddick returned it. "You're not running away again." But he let go of her arm.

Zemma frowned. She could see him nearly vibrating with tension again.

Now what? What'd I miss?

"What do you mean, 'again'?" Might as well get to the point.

Riddick looked at the open door, and back to her.

"Close. Lock. What do you mean 'run away again'?" Zemma turned and wandered away from his intensity into the perpetually dark suite. "It was the logical thing, to…"

"Left in the middle of the night, moved back into your father's suite. Come back here, didn't even stay the night. Then you're in Jaron's suite." There was agitation in his ordinarily cool voice.

Zemma turned and looked at him from across the room. He was standing where she left him, almost at military rest. Arms crossed in front of his chest, his head cocked over a little, he was watching her reactions. She tried to see those events, as he did, from outside her head

Hell, sweetie, even from in here it looks like running away.

"For two weeks you don't say a word, then you tell me you're in love with me?" He sounded incredulous, almost offended.

Huh.

"Pop me in the nose, tell me you'll chase me across the universe, and now you're as far away from me as the room will allow." He didn't sound mad now, but simply factual, mildly curious perhaps. Still, stating the obvious was not Riddick's habit.

Obvious to whom, Zem? Apparently it hasn't been obvious to you.

"I'm not very good at this, am I?" She smiled hesitantly.

Riddick laughed and shook his head. He dropped his arms and started to walk around the edge of the room. Zemma found herself pacing him, still keeping her distance, watching his reactions and trying to read him as he was reading her.

"You're not afraid of me; but you don't feel safe here, alone, with me?" Curious and… the challenge voice; the one she kinda liked.

Oh, c'mon. You love it when he challenges you.

Zemma stopped walking, shook her head, "No, that's not it." She didn't turn to face him; she let him walk up behind her. "I…feel… too safe here."

That made him pause; she could feel him right behind her, breathing on her.

"The gilded cage," she murmured. She wanted to step back into him, to be touching him. She could feel his hands barely brushing her shoulders, verging on contact.

No! Not falling right back into bed with him! That's too easy.

Zemma made herself take a step forward out of his reach.

"I spent most of my life either locked in, or pretending to be a non-person. You're almost the only one I've ever talked to as myself… and I hardly know who that is yet." Zemma turned to face him. "I don't resent you for… those Ladies." It hurt her, but she got it. "But I'll resent you if I have to become Min again…just to be safe… just to keep you company."

She hoped hearing his own words would help him understand.

"My whole life, I've wanted to be free…"

…Of this ship, of these people, of the madness that is their religion…

"To be somebody and do something, anything, that didn't involve hiding from people." She modulated her voice, speaking slowly, trying not to sound as desperate as the words made her feel.

He stared at her, a blank wall again. If he understood, he didn't show it. She could see tiny muscles in his jaw working as if he were literally chewing on her words.

Zemma sighed and thought of what Jaron called a 'poker face'; he'd never gotten around to teaching her the game. She didn't want to leave, but she wanted out of the uncomfortable conversation before she said something wrong and ruined the delicate balance between them.

"Do you know how to play the game 'poker'?" She tried a hopeful little smile.

Please, let's change the subject now.

Riddick's eyebrows went up and a slight smile tugged at his mouth. "Yes…" He drew the word out slowly, waiting for the punch line.

"Will you teach it to me?"

Riddick shrugged one shoulder, "I'm sure we can dig up some cards on a ship as big as this one. But what will we do for chips?"

Zemma didn't understand, but she could see he was suppressing a grin. Was he teasing her again?

"I'll have to teach you the modified game, called 'strip poker'." Now he wasn't even trying to hide the grin.

Zemma looked at him sideways, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

That came later.

**End Part Four**


	64. You're Not Kyra

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

**Chapter 64: You're Not Kyra**

This is a radical change of POV, but stick it out. It's only this one time.

This was a fic challenge by Ardath Rekha, from her board.

Here are the rules:  
1. No more than 1000 words.  
2. Must not actually contradict anything directly said or done in the movie.  
3. Kyra can't be a villain. Whatever reason she had for telling the lie about her identity wasn't actually malicious, and her sacrifice at the end was meant wholeheartedly.  
4. Most important, Jack is alive and well and a completely separate individual.  
5. Someone (maybe Jack, maybe someone else) knows and can explain why Kyra pretended to be Jack.  
6. No info-dumps. Reveal your information within the story's action and dialogue.

* * *

**Some time ago...**

"Pretend."

Kyra took the knife and hid it with ease. Pretending is all she had been doing since she saw Riddick. Pretending to be Jackie, so he would help her escape. Jackie wouldn't have minded. She told Kyra what to say if she ever saw Riddick. 'Where can I get eyes like that?' And she had, after all, killed a few people.

But neither of them had found anyone to shine their eyes, 20 Menthol Kools or no. Jackie had been so pissed about that. But she still wanted to find him. Bad enough to escape Crematoria on her own…

Kyra understood being left behind. Damn broken leg. She told Jackie to get while the getting was good.

Now she was out of the frying pan and in the fire, with this crap in her head. At least she still felt like herself. Thanks to that strange woman. Relaxing had not been easy. Accepting the information without letting it overrun her had not been easy. But she was still here.

And Riddick was still dead. Jackie was going to be heartbroken. If Kyra ever got off this ship to find her, and tell her. Maybe that woman would be able to help her escape, the one who pretended to be a child, but had eyes like Riddick. Kyra wondered…

Shit! Okay, pretend… Kyra kept her face blank. Surrounded by Necros, she couldn't do anything else. But damn if that's not Riddick. No wonder Jackie thought so highly of him. She might get out of this yet. She might get back to Jackie, might be able to hold her again…

The damn king was prompting her. She could see the words she was supposed to say as if they were on a page. Pretend…

She did it, but she couldn't think of a thing to clue Riddick in. With this many people around she couldn't even wink.

No one was paying any attention to her now. Kyra moved slowly, waiting for her opening. She owed Jackie that much. Hell, she owed Riddick now.

Fuck!

Oh, Jackie I screwed up bad. It hurts so much, I can't even breathe. Shit, now he's gonna be alone on this damn ship. Oh, Jackie, how do I tell him there might be someone who can help him here? I can't think straight, help me, Jackie, how do I tell him…

"I was always with you."

Is it enough, Jackie? Jackie? Jack…

* * *

**Nearly Now...**

Jack hit the floor hard. She fought the urge to breathe as the delousing powder followed her. Must be at the next slam, time to offload, and start planning her next escape. All she had to do was think like Riddick; watch, wait, and take advantage of… whatever.

She got up slowly and brushed powder from her face. There was only one merc standing in front of her glass cell. One of the creepy alien ones, not one of the human hired hands.

"You were once an accomplice to the murderer, Riddick?"

What the fuck? Jack kept her mouth shut if she couldn't sting someone with a smart-ass comment. It was Riddick Rule number nine. Or was it ten?

"We have recovered the ship on which your crime was recorded. We have verified that you are the adolescent who killed the Mistress of that ship."

Oh, that. Then why'd he ask?

"The criminal, Riddick, has assembled an armada and is seeking war with us. Why?"

Holy Hell! An armada? Her Riddick? Looking for her? Damn, who knew the old man could get so motivated?

"Sucks to be you, then." She didn't smile, Riddick never smiled after he got off a good zinger. Jack ran her fingers through her too short hair and wondered if, no, when, she would see some action.

"War is sacred and not to be entered into lightly with lesser beings. You will accompany us to determine the worthiness of such a venture."

Damn, gonna make this too easy.

"Your sacrifice should provide ample motivation to allow us to formulate an evaluation."

Fuck.

* * *

**Now...**

The rest of the ship had been grossly lit to emphasize the depraved art, but the 'throne room' was dim. Jack couldn't see much around the cluster of taller aliens, but she caught glimpses of blue shinning eyes.

What the fuck?

The aliens were making their speech. An impossibly low voice responded. Damn, it was Riddick! Then they parted and she could see him at last, sitting on a wide throne all decked out in black armor. There was a damn Hell Hound at his feet. Some woman was standing next to him, and she had a shine job. Hell, everyone in the room had a shine job!

"Where the hell can I get eyes like that?" Jack whispered in awe, in lieu of hello.

"Kyra?" Riddick sounded incredulous.

What the fuck? Kyra? How did he know Kyra?

Then it was on. Jack wasn't as helpless as she looked in her chains, so she dodged the first swipe at her pretty easily. The room exploded into action after that, almost as if they had been expecting a fight. Jack found herself between Riddick, and the woman next to him. He still looked top flight, but the woman needed pointers. Jack was thinking of telling her some when the Hell Hound took out her opponent.

Nice.

The rest of the battle went as Jack might have expected of a team looking eerily like Riddick. Fast and bloody.

"Do you think we have their attention, Now?" Some guy, looking like what Riddick might look like in thirty years… if he grew hair… asked when the last alien fell.

Riddick surveyed the mess nodding, before he turned to Jack.

"You're not Kyra." It wasn't even a question, hell how could it be? She wasn't Kyra.

"You go blind since I last saw you? I'm Jack, you big dumb-ass. I left Kyra on Crematoria."

Riddick tilted his head, "Then, who's Kyra?"


	65. Who's Jack?

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

* * *

**Who Is Jack?**

Riddick frowned, "Jack?"

"Yeah, Jack." The girl was looking at him as if he's lost his mind.

Zemma wondered…Who was this Jack?

Jaron was listening to the comm. in his helmet. "Lord Marshal, it worked, Sir. We're going to war."

The Furyans in the room, except for Jack there were none other than Furyans in the room, cheered. Riddick and Jack were still looking at each other closely, Jack, with some amusement.

"Kyra said Jack was weak. She said Jack died and became Kyra." Riddick didn't look confused exactly, but certainly wanted some clarification.

Jack shrugged. "Nice embellishment. Meant she didn't have to remember to answer to MY name."

"Sir," Zemma approached diffidently. "If you'd like to continue your conversation in private, I suggest we go back to the suite." The throne room was known to be bugged, an open secret.

Jack glanced over at Zemma, but spoke to Riddick. "Nice bit of fluff. She always dress like you? The 'Sir' thing, that's good, nice touch." She was grinning ear to ear. "Lord Marshal, huh?"

Zemma thought it was a rather infectious grin and didn't hold her own smile in check. The girl winked at her.

"Jaaaack." Riddick drew out the name like an admonition, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Whoever she is, he's happy to see her…

And Kyra was pretending to BE her…

How could he not tell them apart? They're like night and day.

The doors to the throne room were being opened to allow crew to begin cleaning up the mess, the lights being dialed up slowly to facilitate that, and to remind the Furyans to drop their lenses.

"Excuse me, please," Zemma nodded respectfully to her Lord Marshal and the newcomer before hurrying after Nor.

"Nor, don't eat that," Zemma spoke in Furyan. "You don't know what it is. Come." She led the cat towards the exit before the crew got her overexcited.

"Cute kid," Jaron came up on her other side, also speaking in Furyan.

"You think she's his child?" Zemma had wondered the same about Kyra once.

"Could be; he's nearly old enough, she looks almost young enough. Between the close cropped hair and the smart-ass remarks…"

Zemma smiled. "I'm going to take Nor back to her suite, do you think I should…?" She let the question hang unspoken.

"Zemma you stood by his side as his Lady today. He moved you back into his suite because he wants you there." Jaron stopped to put a hand on her arm. "I'll take Nor home, you wait for them." He inclined his head over his shoulder. Riddick and the girl were walking towards them slowly.

"Kyra's dead?"

Riddick put his goggles on, but his expression was not hard for Zemma to read. He'd mourned the dead girl thinking she was this Jack, and now Jack was having to face it as well. Sympathy, masked by his stalwart features, was deeply felt but hardly shown.

But who was Kyra to this Jack? From the look of grief on her face, Zemma had a hunch she was more than a friend.

Jack looked to Zemma standing at the doorway. "Where did your shine job go?"

Zemma looked to Riddick for clarification with a raised eyebrow. 'Shine job?'

"Let that wait till we get to my quarters," Riddick told Jack, but pointed to his eyes for Zemma's answer.

Oh, the blue lenses. Shine job? Riddick had said once he didn't remember how his eyes came to be stuck with the blue lenses up. Was 'shine job' how he'd explained it to others?

'How the hell do I get eyes like that,' she'd said. Surgery?

Better than thinking it's a sexually transmitted disease. Zemma would have liked to laugh, but held it in check.

Zemma opened the door with her palm print and called the lights up from blackness to dimness for the benefit of their guest and turned on the scene walls as well, for added ambient light. Riddick took off his goggles.

Jack whistled. "Nice spread for a ship, even as big as this one." She continued to walk through the apartment. "Who ya gotta kill to get a place like this?"

This time Zemma did laugh, and pointed to Riddick when Jack turned towards the sound. "Him."

Riddick dropped into a chair, arms thrown wide, with an actual grin on his face. "It's good to be Lord Marshal," he quipped.

"Say, if you weren't looking for me with the clay faces, why'd you attack their fleet?"

Zemma didn't answer, but waited to see how Riddick would. She sat down nearby.

"I've inherited a clan of faithful lunatics who worship death. Thought I'd do 'em a favor."

"But how'd you know they were even out here? Riddick, how'd you know they had me?"

"I didn't." Riddick seemed willing to leave it there with a shrug; he understood the Now intuitively.

Jack shook her head, perhaps she knew Riddick well enough to know he was done. She didn't look satisfied with the answer. She continued to wander here and there looking at the room and the scene walls.

"Who was Kyra?" Riddick emphasized the 'who'. As in 'who' did you dare to talk about me? Zemma was sure Kyra must have played her role very convincingly, which meant a lot of knowledge. Not something Riddick tended to share, even with her.

"Just a port in the storm," Jack seemed flippant.

To Zemma's eyes she was clearly lying. She glanced at Riddick who's face was hardening. Clear to him as well, then.

"Jack, who was Kyra?" Same voice, same words, but now an undeniable command.

Jack's face hardened too. Either she didn't want to share that information, which made the relationship even more obvious to Zemma, or she didn't like Riddick telling her what to do. It made her wonder even more, 'Who is Jack?'

Zemma kept very still as the two stared each other down. She had no doubt who would win this battle of wills but was intrigued to see how it would end. Jack finally just turned away.

"Are there any other 'ports' out there that know more about me than they should?" Riddick make 'ports' sound like a dirty word. In a way, Zemma guessed it was.

"No." Sullen, defensive, angry.

Yes, Kyra was special to Jack. Poor dear. And no time to mourn her with this interrogation.

"Jack, when did you last eat? Since hostilities will apparently commence, it's all hands for themselves." A state dinner would be a little off-putting with so many dead bodies still being cleaned out of the next room. Zemma stood and walked to the menu console.

"You mean, you're really going to war with them fuckers? Right now?"

Zemma nodded.

"And we're in here just shootin' the shit?"

"Already planned. Already executed." Riddick answered succinctly. Zemma could still hear agitation in his voice but at least he was dropping the previous subject.

"Well, I'll be God-damned." Jack said with some respect. "I guess it IS good to be the king."

Zemma smiled to herself as she flipped through the menu. Whoever this Jack would turn out to be, Zemma liked her.


	66. Worth Watching

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

* * *

**Worth Watching**

* * *

Zemma ordered a veritable buffet; they could snack on it all night. No one was likely to sleep. Even if Riddick looked very calm she knew he would want to keep track of the space battle he was hoping would cripple his fleet. At least the part of the fleet now emptied of Furyan soldiers.

"So, spill about the shine job." Jack was scrounging around the bar, apparently not as pleased to only find 'the good stuff' as Riddick had been.

"All Furyans have the blue lenses." Zemma's sense of de'ja'vu made her want to smile again. Then again, she'd been smiling a lot the last 20 hours or so.

"Fury-whats?" Jack found something to her taste and hopped up on the top of the bar to sample it.

Riddick seemed willing to leave the explanation to Zemma. "Fury is a world, one of the first taken over by the NecroMongers. Furyans are born with the extra lens that allows them to see in the dark."

"Necro-Mongers?"

"Death Seekers."

"You bastard!" Jack hopped down from the bar and turned on Riddick. "I knew you were lying. God-damn son-of-a-bitch. Prick!"

"Remember who you're talking to, Jack." Riddick's voice was low and meant to sound menacing but Zemma could hear the amusement in it.

"The Lord Marshal did not know he could drop his lenses until recently." Zemma offered politely.

"Prove it."

Riddick put his hand to his face. He did not drop his lenses often enough to do it as easily as Zemma. When he put his hand down, Jack walked closer to inspect them.

Jack didn't notice, but Zemma saw Riddick examining the girls face as closely as she did his eyes. Zemma thought of Riddick looking down on the dead Kyra and thinking, 'First time he's ever seen her face.'

"You have brown eyes?" Jack laughed loudly. "I always knew you were full of shit, and that proves it right there." She walked away from him, taking a swig off the bottle as she approached Zemma.

"You have green eyes like me. Lemme see the blue ones."

Zemma obliged, looking at the girl as Riddick had previously only ever seen her.

Jack turned on Riddick again. "So why ya livin' in the dark? Lights on!"

Zemma dropped her lenses, while Riddick twitched his up. "The lights only respond to our voices in this suite, now. Safer that way," Zemma told her.

Had that been mischievousness? Or just part of her brassy personality? Bright lights would still have hurt Riddick's eyes, used to the dark as he was. Certainly would have annoyed him. Zemma glanced over at him, but saw no particular reaction. She looked to Jack, still looking at Riddick, and saw some tension in the slant of her shoulders.

On purpose then.

Interesting.

Worth watching, at any rate.

"What's the matter, Jack?" Riddick tipped his head over in that way that most annoyed Zemma when he did it to her.

He sees it too.

"What could be the matter, old man?" Jack walked to the seat opposite Riddick's and flopped down, putting her feet up on the low table there and looking at him over the top of the bottle. "I'm grateful you rescued me, again." Her voice was clearly facetious, bordering on insolent.

"And why did you need rescuing off a merc ship? Were you bounty? Or crew?" Riddick made it sound like there was no right answer.

"Oh, I'm not as big a payday as you are. But they would have earned a little off me. Not enough, of course, to chase me down again once I escaped. And the slam wouldn't be hurting so bad they'd do more than write me off the books… I learned what you never did. Don't hit em in the pocketbook and you can stay under the radar a little better." She spoke with smug satisfaction.

"So they had you on their rolls because they were lucky, or you were stupid?"

That wiped the grin off her face. They stared at each other, and again Jack looked away first. Riddick shook his head as he got up and headed for the bar.

"Why didn't you stay on New Mecca, Jack?" He asked softly, almost sorrowfully.

"Why didn't you stick around, Riddick?" She snapped right back.

"You know why!" Riddick turned and roared. Zemma watched him struggle for control. "Don't tell me any sob stories about joining mercs to find me. Don't tell me you didn't have anywhere else to go. Don't tell me…" He ground his teeth and brought his voice down another octave. "Don't ask me what they do to twelve year old girls. I already know. And you should have known better."

"You did what you thought you had to do. And I did what I thought I had to do." Her voice was soft but not kind. Resentment was coming off her in waves.

Riddick never made it to the bar. He stalked out of the suite instead.

Jack took a swig off the bottle she was holding. "Well, that went better than I was expecting," she said brightly.

Zemma kept her voice as neutral as she could manage. "You've been saving that up?"

"For five years." Jack wasn't looking to apologize for it.

"People do strange things to protect the ones they love."

"Bullshit. He never loved me. He made me think it, but he never really did."

"He mourned you once. Don't make him mourn you again."

Jack looked at Zemma with a raised eyebrow. "Are you threatening me?"

Zemma laughed. This child was like a kit, all teeth and no mass.

Still like her?

I don't know. We'll see. Riddick loves her…

Or the memory of her.

"There's a bath down this way. I'll find something to fit you." Zemma walked away from the seething Jack, still not knowing who she was. Jack would either follow her, or not. Then she might be able to ask some questions of her own…

Or not.


	67. Give and Take

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

* * *

**Give And Take**

* * *

"Lights on."

Zemma started the bath and went to fetch some changes of clothing.

"You look close to my size. What would you prefer? Lounging around stuff, or my daily grays?"

"I wanna see you in the silky stuff."

Zemma shrugged one shoulder. Jack followed her into the bath.

"You gonna take a bath with me? I wash your back, you wash mine?"

"You don't have to try so hard, Jack. I get it. But don't you get that I live here with Riddick? Or is that the whole point?"

Jack shrugged. "Damn, that's not a tub, it's a fucking swimming hole!"

Zemma nodded, though she'd never seen a swimming hole. She started stripping out of her 'Riddick costume'.

"Holy hells woman! Did he do that to you?"

Zemma paused realizing her bruises must look rather ghastly in normal light.

"No. Riddick wouldn't do this. They're from Jaron. He's training me to fight better."

"I thought you looked pretty amateurish out there."

Zemma smiled, un-offended. It was their first attempt to use Nor in a real life situation, she'd been paying more attention to that than her techniques. Zemma waded into the hot soapy water to scrub the makeup off her face and wash her hair. After a minute Jack joined her.

"You sure you don't wanna wash my back?"

"Knock it off, kid," a low voice rumbled.

Jack startled, but didn't look behind her at Riddick, now standing in the doorway.

So much for questions. Zemma washed her hair, and climbed out to shower off the soap.

"Take your time," she told Jack. "Food will be awhile." Riddick was still standing in the doorway, watching her.

Don't blush, Zem. He probably just heard Jack's comment about the bruises. It's not like he's ever really looked at you in the light.

He hasn't looked at your face, either.

She ignored that thought, as she tried to ignore him pulling up his goggles and pinch his face to drop his lenses. Just as she tried to ignore his frown as she dried and got dressed. She knew she was a map of blue, green and yellow marks.

He was outside the door to the bath with his back to the wall when she came out.

"Why'd you let him do that to you?" He asked quietly.

Zemma shrugged. "He says I'm getting faster, but I don't know if I believe him." She tried to keep her voice light.

As Riddick stood away from the wall he touched his nose with his thumb. "You are." He preceded her into the darkness.

Liar.

Zemma smiled to herself.

"I want you to quit practicing with Jaron." Flat voice, impossible to read.

Zemma twitched up her lenses to see him better. No body language either. The man didn't just have a poker face, he had a whole poker body when he wanted. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry. She waited.

Riddick went to the bar and poured himself a glass. She hadn't seen him swig out of a bottle since that first day. He was examining the glass, perhaps merely enjoying it's contents, or thinking the same thought? Thinking about Jack?

"Why."

Riddick took a drink out of the glass. "Because I'm asking you to."

It seemed to Zemma, in the few months she had known him, that Riddick never did anything without purpose. The trick was to figure out the rationale.

"This is too important to me to just give up without some reasoning." She wasn't saying 'no', exactly. As they looked at each other, the light refraction of their blue lenses dulling the details of each other's faces, Zemma thought about Riddick telling Jack, 'You should have stayed in New Mecca.'

Just because he told her to?

She thought of them staring at each other, and of Jack finally looking away. Zemma kept her face relaxed, and didn't blink.

"You want to become a better killer? Is that it?" There was some irritation in his voice, and something else.

Regret?

Zemma frowned and almost looked away. "A better killer? Is that what you think it's all about?"

Is that what has you worried? Night and day, my love, I am neither Kyra, nor Jack.

"I'm never going to be like Nor…"

Like you.

"Killing someone face to face will always be a shock for me," she paused. "But it wont stop me from doing what I have to do."

And neither will you. It's what I give you. It's what I must have in return.

Zemma reached out and touched his hand lightly. She spoke a word in Furyan. Riddick eyed her. It wasn't 'prick'. Zemma smiled.

Point for me.

She repeated the word. "That's 'why'. Why do you want me to stop improving myself?"

"Train with me."

The simple, quiet request made her pause. Zemma leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. She spoke another word. "That's 'yes'." She squeezed his hand.

"Geeze, you two, get a room." Jack reappeared in Zemma's 'daily grays.' The utilitarian clothing had straps and buckles to make it one size fits most, by height. She was still adjusting it to fit her slighter frame. "So how's the battle going?"

"As expected," Riddick spoke over his shoulder at her. He looked back to Zemma. "Vaako is pissed about being grounded."

"Who's Vaako?" Jack asked.

"A commander. First Commander." Zemma told her.

"We should change that to Jaron." Riddick said.

"He doesn't mind his status as second."

"But it's apparent to everyone, especially Vaako, that he isn't just Second. Why are you protecting Vaako?" That was not Riddick's happiest voice.

Zemma bit her lip. She didn't want to lie outright, but perhaps her thinking had been faulty? "Tell him you're holding him in reserve. If the battle doesn't go well we'll need him to save the day."

"I did. It pacified him. Now, answer the question."

Jack was watching the exchange closely.

Zemma took a deep breath and counted to twelve. She wasn't a hundred percent sure about Vaako's heritage, or that it would matter one iota to Riddick.

"I suspect he's Furyan; he doesn't know it."

"Who else have you shared this with?"

"Just Jaron…"

That was not Riddick's happiest face. Even by the light of her lenses she could see that much.

"And you waited till now to tell me?"

"Only because I'm not sure." Zemma kept her voice neutral and her face blank. She squeezed his hand.

"Don't keep anything more from me." His voice was a plain and simple threat. He walked from the suite, again.

Zemma sighed.

"That was entertaining," Jack piped up. "What else do you do for fun around here?"

Zemma turned to look at the teenage girl, so mature in some ways, childish in others. Or maybe it was a mask. A killer? Probably; at least a criminal. Yet she really was no more used to children now than her 'Monger counterparts. "I'm learning to play poker. Know the game?"

"Hell yah!"


	68. Playing Games

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

As always, thank you GoSpeedGrrrl/GreenEyedMonster for beta'ing my commas for me!

* * *

**Playing Games**

* * *

"So how'd you and Riddick get together? Did you come with the room? Like part of the furniture or somthin'?" Jacks cocked an eyebrow at Zemma, her voice was light, meant to be casual and humorous.

But that had hit a little too close to reality. Zemma blinked and felt her mental armor snap up, her face a mask of tranquility. But she fumbled the second part of the shuffle and Jack looked at her narrowly, seeing if the barb had hit home.

"I never did this before yesterday," Zemma explained with a wan smile.

"That long ago, huh?"

Zemma didn't think Jack meant the cards.

Girl's razor sharp! Watch your fingers, even kit's teeth can hurt.

"I don't see any chips, and I don't have any creds on me. How are we gonna bet?"

Zemma didn't want to mention Riddick's solution to that problem. "Perhaps I can find some." Zemma set the cards down in front of Jack and went to the comm. Don W'Rdah was probably busy, but was also most likely to have poker chips.

"Don…"

"What the hell do you want?"

Nope. Still not friends. Should have called Jaron.

"Is Jaron available?"

"He's busy too. Whadda ya want."

"Poker chips." She waited for his verbal smack on the back of her head. She heard him snort instead and the comm light went to 'on hold'. Zemma looked back at Jack. Jack was, as usual, watching intently, as if memorizing everything.

The light went green and W'Rdah's voice, tinged slightly with amusement, said only "On the way."

Huh.

Zemma turned a smile on Jack. "Perhaps we can go through a couple of hands? You can remind me what beats what?"

"Sure." Jack shuffled and dealt. "Draw poker. Five cards dealt, you can throw in up to four and get new ones. But ya only do that if all you have is an ace." She picked up her cards, and threw four down, looking at Zemma expectantly.

Zemma picked up her hand and inspected it, trying to remember all the winning combinations. She thought Jack had thrown her cards down too quickly, as if trying to emphasize the ace comment. Zemma dropped two cards on the table and took her draws from Jack.

Jack didn't have an ace. 'Bluff' was what Riddick had explained. Bluffs were as important as a good hand. They played on, Jack occasionally giving advice and Zemma learning to read her from the hands she played. She wasn't as difficult as Riddick, being more animated, she merely masked one thing for another.

Zemma was very good at masks. Learning Jack's was not a problem. She knew, too, that Jack was trying to learn her faces, as well as feeling out who she was to Riddick.

"Tell me about five years ago." Zemma dealt.

"He didn't tell you already?"

Jack was trying to make something of that. But it was no secret how close-mouthed Riddick was so Zemma only shrugged.

A cloud passed over Jack's features. "We crashed on a planet. Riddick saved us," she spoke evenly.

And something important happened in between that forged this odd relationship. If she wasn't born Furyan, she sure has the traits of one. Zemma would dig for it later.

"How'd the old man end up king of this steel jungle, anyhow?"

Time to spank the girl.

"He chased Kyra here, thinking she was you. And killed the former Marshal for killing her. You keep what you kill here. That made him Marshal." Zemma looked at the girl pointedly.

"Is that how he got you? You belonged to the Marshal?"

Nice recovery. The kid didn't even blink, and threw it right back.

"Yes and no." Zemma didn't feel a need to discuss her father's suicide. Her armor was always intact on the subject of him, twenty years of practice.

"That's it, 'yes and no'?"

"I did not belong to the Marshal." Zemma clarified.

"But you belonged to someone Riddick killed."

You were too nonchalant; she's looking for the bluff.

"Yes." Zemma kept her face passive, and let Jack lead.

"And now you're holding hands and getting kissy face with him? Must have been a real bastard, or you're one cold bitch." Jack said it with a smile, almost a compliment. "Not that I blame you. Riddick's like gravity." She shrugged to take the import off what she just said, and rushed on. "So what's he see in you?"

Zemma couldn't answer that. Certainly not with Riddick walking silently as a ghost back into the suite, but even so, she didn't think she could answer that.

"Kid. Shut it," Riddick remarked, making Jack jump a little.

"Two Commanders and three Marshals," Zemma said laying down her hand.

"It's jacks and kings, I told you that," his voice light and his eyes smiling at her. Jack didn't miss it.

Zemma smiled back. She remembered. She also suspected him of cheating. They had not stuck strictly to betting clothing as she discovered what strip poker was, and was still trying to hold out on going to bed with him (for reasons she could no longer fathom.) But they had bet drinks and finally he had challenged her; if he won the next hand she would move back into the suite.

It seemed like the thing to do at the time.

But what were the odds he would get her exact last hand as his own?

Riddick put an ornate wooden box on the table. "That's from Don W'Rdah." His face and voice faintly curious.

Zemma slid the cover on its grooves to expose a variety of neatly lined and varying colored disks. "Chips!"

"I thought he hated you." Riddick's voice was dry, slightly amused.

"Me too. Should we look for a bomb?" Zemma asked glibly. Jaron was probably in the room when she asked for the poker chips. But she wasn't going to mention that. Riddick got a little odd whenever she mentioned him. However much he liked the silky new clothes Jaron had given her.

"Play with us?" Jack's voice lilted suggestively, causing both Zemma and Riddick to look at her piercingly. But she was looking down at the cards she was shuffling.

She's doing everything she can to sting him.

Gonna have to find a way to spank that girl.


	69. Scratch The Surface

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

* * *

**Scratching the Surface**

* * *

Food came finally. Riddick raised an eyebrow at the amount, but Zemma expected visitors and a late night. She wasn't wrong. Jaron stopped by with an update on the battle. High casualties on both sides. Perfect.

Jaron staying was not a surprise. That Don W'Rdah came and stayed was. The men were keyed up but 'off duty' and trying to relax. Vaako was on the bridge and one wall screen followed the action outside. The lights were dialed up a bit, the three men and Jack poured drinks and dealt cards.

Riddick looked at Zemma and glanced at a chair at the table but she smiled and shook her head in a tiny movement. She was happy just to watch the interaction of the people who didn't hate her.

Well, weren't trying to kill her, at least.

She took a seat at the bar, where she could sit above the table and watch the poker game. The men were joking and laughing, covering bluffs. (The biggest one happening outside the ship.) But they weren't drinking their shots like Jack was. She seemed in her element and happy to be there.

And Zemma had become completely invisible to her. Zemma smiled a little at that. Riddick looked up at her at that moment.

Damn, paying more attention than you thought he was.

She dropped a slow wink back. A muscle near his mouth ticked up at that.

Much more attention.

Don was laughing vociferously at a joke Jack told and she was grinning along. Zemma felt a little pang of jealousy at that. He never smiled at her, and while he had quit physically knocking her, he had continued to do so verbally.

But she loved the flight simulator and would have put up with any amount of bruises for it.

Canopy; a living ceiling. She could probably do that. She'd have to try.

Nor, old as she was, would no doubt love a chance to play in a jungle.

And where's Riddick in this little fantasy?

That's not the Now.

You're covering.

Riddick laughed loudly at something Jack said. Zemma concentrated on enjoying it. That was the Now.

You think it won't last.

Zemma kept her face a mask of pleasant relaxation.

Jack punched Riddick in the shoulder and he feigned pain.

At least Jack has quit trying to piss him off.

Uh huh.

Now she's just trying to piss me off.

Jack laid her hand on Riddick's arm and leaned in close to whisper something, something no doubt funny. Riddick's eyes cut to Zemma. She twitched one side of her mouth up in a lopsided smirk and continued bouncing her foot slowly to the music she'd selected.

The girl may be very good at what she does, but so was Zemma. She might not be able to fool Riddick, or Jaron for that matter, but the girl would never score her armor.

She did once.

A scratch.

Riddick turned back to Jack and laughed again.

Won't let the kit bite her again is all.

"Hey! This music sucks." Jack was suddenly quite loud, not talking directly to Zemma but in her direction. "What else ya got? Something with more… umph."

Zemma wasn't sure the 'Mongers had anything with more 'umph' that wasn't a war march. She went to the computer and tapped for a minute. "Jack, say 'music' please."

"Music."

"Ok, you can switch it at your whim. Music, random. Just say 'switch' now. You can cycle it for days."

Jack tried it a few times while Zemma got herself situated back at the bar. The game went on. The battle went on. But Zemma was feeling tired. She wanted to go to bed for a while but was run aground by a social dilemma. It was stupid, really. But it kept her butt glued to the barstool while she pondered it.

Do I kiss him goodnight?

Silly.

But what's the role I'm playing here? Lover? Lady?

She wished she could ask Jaron. If they were alone she would kiss Riddick. Probably kiss him. At least touch his shoulder and tell him she was going to bed and hope he would join her. They hadn't had sex yet since he conned her into moving back in.

Conned?

Well, he cheated!

After he won the hand he'd grinned at her, daring her, she thought, to make something of the coincidence. She'd just smiled, feeling drunk and happy enough that the issue was settled without having to talk about it, exactly. She'd smiled, got up from the table unsteadily, squeezed his shoulder and kissed him. And walked into the bedroom.

He'd followed her and they had crawled naked into bed. And then he just held her, his front to her back, his hand stroking her stomach lightly and his face in her hair. She'd stroked his hand… and fallen asleep.

She woke the next morning with his arm still across her, feeling particularly happy. It had been hard to keep from grinning like an idiot all day, even in the face of preparations for a stylistic war.

Jaron, or perhaps W'Rdah, had done quite a bit of research that night. The aliens tended to stay on the outskirts of human systems. They frequently acted as mercenaries, taking on human criminals in one on one challenges, and then socking them away on their ships. Not all of the criminals made it to slam.

Human mercenaries were often crewed but not so often used. They considered it a cushy job, the aliens only used them for the lesser captures and they got paid well. No one mentioned what happened to convicts who didn't make it back to prison. Jaron thought they might have become trophies and Riddick had nodded as if he agreed, but didn't elaborate.

They never went to war with humans, but frequently warred amongst themselves. Always outside human systems so rumors were all the information they had about it. Seems they cleaned up after themselves too. There was never any salvage for entrepreneurs to collect.

Jaron made some interesting leaps of logic, and while Zemma concurred with him, she stayed silent as he and Riddick discussed the possibilities. Between the information gleaned and the ceremonial wording and attitude of the alien liaison, Jaron concluded they would have to prove themselves worthy of war.

It seemed the aliens knew of the 'Mongers belief in death and it intrigued them enough to give them that chance. The massacre in the throne room had clinched it. Now they watched the battle carefully, waiting for any other cues that would keep conflict running at as high a level as they could afford.

Zemma had no input on this matter. She'd never researched aliens, never participated in a space battle, and while watching the poker game was teaching her a lot more than the few hands she had played herself, she was tired and didn't think she could garner any more information about Jack from it tonight.

But how to exit gracefully? She always kept her voice, words and actions professional, and distant, around W'Rdah, who so disapproved of her already. Jaron would only smile, knowing her as he did. And Jack? What action would least antagonize the child who clearly saw Zemma as an outsider in the private circle she shared with Riddick.

Who's jealous of whom? You're worrying too much again.

Zemma slid off her stool and walked towards the table. Riddick's eyes were on her immediately and she gave him a tired smile. She almost decided to just walk right by but Riddick tipped his head in a tiny 'come here' gesture and she found herself turning towards him.

"My lady, gentlemen, I'm tired." She told them as she laid a hand on Riddick's shoulder. "Goodnight." As she started to step away Riddick caught her hand and drew her down. She kissed him and felt the light butterflies she frequently felt when he kissed her. She hoped she wasn't blushing. As they drew apart Riddick's eyes slanted towards Jack. Zemma's followed as she stood to turn away.

Riddick was sending Jack a message.

'More things than you have changed.'

By the set of Jack's mouth, Zemma didn't think she liked that idea. Someone else had to deal with their memories of the past.


	70. Harder and Softer

Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

TY as always to my wonderful beta and her Riddickisms!

* * *

Harder and Softer

* * *

Zemma got in bed wearing her silky things. She loved the feel of them and rather hoped Riddick would come to bed and enjoy them too. Didn't sound like it would be soon.

So Zemma listened to the noises of the game while sleep eluded her. Jack sounded drunker and louder. Jokes were getting bawdier. Laughter was getting shorter. And still Zemma couldn't sleep. She listened to Jaron and Don make their goodbyes, then there was only the random clink of the chips as if someone was idly playing with them.

She wondered if the silence was as hard to take for the two left out there as it was for her.

"You're pretty wasted, kid. There's the couch. Sleep it off."

"I do what I wanna do now, ol' man."

"Good for you, kid."

"Quit calling me that!"

"Sure, Jack, whatever."

"Why didn't you come for me, Riddick?" This last was so pathetic that Zemma felt tears pop into her eyes. She wished she had already fallen asleep, or had less than stellar hearing, at least.

"You know the answer to that, Jack. You knew it then too. Where I go, bad things follow. What I do, young girls shouldn't witness." Weariness.

"I already saw too much. You couldn't turn back the clock by abandoning me."

"I left you safe, kid."

"Jack!"

"I left you safe with Imam, Jack. He wanted to take care of you."

"And you didn't."

"Just different ways of protecting you. Mine meant living on an ice ball without a name so the real monsters of the universe wouldn't accidentally shoot your ass." He sounded irritated.

"Yah. Or use me for bait." Sarcasm.

"Did you really join the mercs like Kyra said?" Disgust in his voice.

"Yah." Insolent.

"And Kyra?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

Zemma could hear the pain maybe more than Riddick. Or perhaps it didn't matter to him. Possibly his version of tough love?

"But you could talk to her about me?" Riddick sounded livid now. "Don't I deserve a little more respect than that? She used me to break her out of slam. Crematoria, Jack! Why'd you leave her there?"

"She told me to go. She couldn't make it and I'd never have made it with her. I had to leave her. I had to survive. Riddick rule number one. At least she loved me enough to let me…"

Jack trailed off too late. She had boxed herself into a corner. Kyra had loved her enough to let her go on without her.

Riddick had too.

Zemma didn't think Jack was ready to give in yet.

"You never really loved me. Did you? Did you ever love me? I needed you so much; did you want me back, even a little?"

The silence was long and agonizing, even to Zemma. How badly would it hurt her to ask the same question and get the same response?

To her credit, Jack didn't cry. She may be young but Riddick had said she was tough.

"Go crash on the couch, Jack. Sleep it off."

There was another long silence. After a few minutes, Zemma got out of bed and tread quietly to the door. Jack was on the couch, arms wrapped around herself, and just starting to snore like only a drunk can. Riddick was halfway between her and the bedroom, looking back at Jack. Zemma walked up as silently as she could. He made no obvious movement, but she knew when he became aware of her. She went to his side and put one arm through his and around his back. The other hand she put on his chest and looked up into his face.

"You loved her enough to let her go," she whispered.

His glance down at her said, 'you heard that, huh?'

"She's just so young. She'll understand someday."

Riddick put his arm around her back and turned her to the bedroom.

Subject closed.

Zemma shut the door and led Riddick to the bed. She could see the tension in his shoulders. She pulled at his shirt but he had to pull it off over his head. When she started lightly tracing his muscles with her fingertips he grabbed both her hands in his own and looked into her eyes.

"Not tonight, ok?"

She smiled, extricating one hand to lay on his cheek. "I'm not making demands. I just want to help you relax. May I?"

He nodded.

"Sit." She pushed him to the edge of the bed and climbed behind him to rub his shoulders and neck.

"Where'd ya learn that?"

"I didn't. It just feels right. Tell me if you want it harder or softer."

"Harder feels good."

"Lay down then."

Riddick took off the rest of his clothes and lay down. Zemma sat a little behind his tailbone and worked her fingers hard into his muscles, slowly moving towards his neck before starting over. Then she worked on each shoulder, scooting up to get better leverage.

"That's nice."

"Good. Roll over and let me work the front of you."

He did. She straddled his stomach, working the muscles of his chest and shoulders. After a few minutes she ended with light traces of her fingertips again, from his jaw line down. His hands rubbed at the silky fabric of her trousers, then slowly up under her shirt.

"Not tonight?" Zemma's voice was lightly mocking.

"This relaxes me too," he grumbled but she could see his smile.

After a few minutes he pulled her down for a kiss and rolled her over onto her back.

"You keep this up, and I will be making demands," she told him when he let her up for air.

"I guess I don't mind after all."

"I waited for more than a decade for you. I can wait till morning."

He looked at her strangely for a moment. "I can't," he murmured against her skin.


	71. Happenstance

Happenstance

* * *

Zemma woke in the middle of a deep sleep, alone in bed. She listened to the quiet for a few minutes, wondering what woke her. She didn't remember falling back asleep, but when she woke again later Riddick was back beside her. She looked at his face, feeling lucky and happy. His eyes opened.

"Did I wake you?" She asked.

"I was waiting for you."

"Hmmnn." She smiled, closed her eyes and reached out to stroke his arm.

"We're moving again."

"War over?"

"Moving it planet side. Some ceremonial thing."

"Oh."

They were quiet a minute. She continued to trace lightly on his arm.

"How long were you hiding as Min?"

"Mmm. Something like twenty Standards." She didn't open her eyes to see his reaction.

"Long time."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Wha'd you mean, you waited a decade for me?" His voice was a little strange.

Now she really didn't want to open her eyes. She sighed. "Once upon a time I was a very foolish young girl…"

Riddick laughed loudly. Her favorite. "Just once?" He asked amused.

"Mmm. If you'd rather pick on me…?"

"No, no, go ahead." But he only laughed softer.

"When I was about twenty I found myself constantly looking at one of the commanders. I thought he was very handsome. I followed him around as quietly as I could. But he noticed me." She frowned, eyes still closed, remembering…

Riddick touched her face and she flinched. Zemma opened her eyes; he had a concerned look and his palm on her cheek.

"He… hit me…in the face." Zemma closed her eyes again. It made the memory that much sharper, but she couldn't see that look on Riddick's face. It ate away at her self-control. It made her want to curl up in his arms and cry.

Because Tor had done more than hit her, he had scared her.

Her father had locked her in the suite for weeks and raged at her about control. When he'd finally let her out again, Tor had been waiting.

"My father pounded in my head how dangerous it was to… have feelings. Tor drove the point home."

"Tor?"

"Dead now."

"You?"

Zemma laughed. "No."

"Wha'd he do?"

Zemma shook her head, not really wanting to have this conversation. She felt Riddick's hand on her chin.

"Wha'd he do?"

"He followed me. Everywhere. And when he could, he hit me, where it wouldn't show."

"Rape you?"

"No. I wasn't that interesting. But I couldn't go anywhere without him being there. Threatening. I did get much better at hiding. And I learned my lesson about… how dangerous it is to feel. Anything."

"Who killed him?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Who."

Zemma sighed. He wasn't going to like the answer. And while she didn't think it had anything to do with anything, he might. A young Lord Vaako had killed Tor in a duel. She hadn't even witnessed it, and Vaako had no idea who she was until later. It was happenstance.

"Now I feel so much sometimes it's like I'm swimming in emotions I didn't even know I had in me… and sometimes I feel like I'm drowning."

"You're evading me."

"You're pressing me." She opened her eyes to look at him.

Damn. Concerned face. Stop that.

"Vaako killed him." It wasn't even a question.

Can he read minds?

Of course not, you just tried too hard to bluff.

"You think you know me?" She mocked his tone of voice when he said as much to her.

"I think you're strange, and somehow perfectly normal."

Compliment? She wasn't sure.

"Sometimes I can't read you at all." She hoped that sounded perfectly normal.

"I like to keep you guessing." He smiled a bit.

Humoring me now.

"Your turn," she smiled. "I've been guessing long enough. Who is Jack? Your daughter?"

Riddick laughed loudly again.

Sounds like 'no.'

"Just some kid I saved and didn't know what to do with afterwards."

Liar.

"You both really de-emphasize whatever it was that brought you together."

"Wha'd she say?"

Leeriness there?

Zemma laughed. "About five words less than you."

"It doesn't matter; it's past."

"Looking pretty 'Now' to me. Plan on keeping her around, or giving her a ship and sending her on her way?"

That's pretty direct there, Zem.

"Haven't decided. Problem for you?"

Ouch. Right back at ya.

Zemma smiled. "Haven't decided."

"Anything else you wanna know?"

"Lots."

"Like?"

"Like…." Zemma scooted over and put her lips to his neck. "How's that feel?"

"Mmmm. Zemma."

Now it was her turn to look at him funny. He arched his eyebrows back at her.

"You don't do that very often. But I like it."

Riddick rolled her over and ran his lips over her skin mumbling, "Zemma, Zemma, Zemma…"

She laughed, it tickled, but she liked that too, until the door slammed open.

"What's a girl gotta do to get some food around here?"

Ah. Jack. Almost forgot about you, for two whole seconds.

Can't have that.

"Shut the damn door, Jack!" Riddick didn't even turn his head.

There was a snort, but the door did slam shut. Zemma wanted to giggle.

"She gonna be okay with this?" Zemma remembered Riddick asking her that about Nor.

Apparently he remembered as well. "She's had sex before, she gets it…" He started nipping at her skin.

"We… ah…both… uhm… have… responsibilities to feed." She pulled his head up.

"You want me to stop… doing… this…?" He punctuated each word with an action of his mouth.

Zemma tried to resist, a little.

"Well?" He stopped suddenly.

"Don't you dare!"

She was gonna have a big dumb grin on her face all day again today.

Riddick stopped again and looked at her with a wolfish grin. "Point for me?"

Zemma pushed his head back down. "Hell, you win."


	72. Where To Stand

**Where To Stand**

* * *

When they became aware of something other than each other, they could hear music blaring from the main rooms.

"Gonna have to spank that kid."

"Riddick… give her time to get adjusted. I'm sure none of this is what she ever imagined."

None of me, that is.

"I did what I could. What does she want from me?"

Zemma just looked at him. He knew what Jack wanted, what she always wanted. A protector, a father… a lover? Zemma could see it from across the room, and across five years.

"I can't give her what she wants."

"Be something else then."

That was met with silence. But she expected as much. Riddick would do whatever he would do at the moment; he decided in the Now. Zemma walked to the shower without further comment. She'd have preferred a bath but didn't want to walk through the suite naked. She was glad this room had a shower of it's own.

"Meanwhile, plan on keeping her here in the suite? Or should I find her a suite?"

"Jaron has room."

This time it was Zemma's turn to be silent. It made perfect sense. It would keep Jack on the Lord's level rather than further down in the soldiers' ranks. And Jaron was as wonderful a father figure as any girl could hope to have.

Except he was Zemma's father figure.

"Should I talk to him?" Zemma tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice. Jaron would no doubt agree. And would probably be a good influence on the girl. But between losing training time with him, which he didn't even know about yet, and Jack being there… Zemma felt a little put out.

Riddick came up behind her and bit her shoulder. "You don't like it."

"It's perfect." Her voice was light, and not fooling him one bit. "I can understand how Jack feels, I've never had to share anyone before either."

That got a laugh. "You think that's the problem."

"She doesn't want to share Kyra with you. She doesn't want to share you with me. I don't want to share Jaron with her."

"But you're okay sharing me with her?" Mockery.

"Do I have to share?" She let her voice tease him. He let his hands tease her. Zemma slipped out of the shower and his grasp. "We're not going to get anything done this way!" She laughed.

Zemma dressed and braided her hair while Riddick finished his shower. Back to her work grays and back to work. With the commotion yesterday she had missed all of her training sessions. If they were on the move, W'Rdah will expect her to be on time.

On the move…fourteen class A ships, like the flag ship. So damn many people to consign to death in this war.

Death Seekers, remember.

And the crews?

Not yet the Now.

And eventually the breeder ship, the laboratories, not a class A but still large. Zemma didn't like to think of the people in stasis there, but they would have to deal with them eventually.

Time to deal with Jack, or Riddick might distract you again.

Zemma could smile about that at least.

Jack was dancing around to music Zemma didn't even know they had in the database. When Jack noticed her she stopped.

"Oh, 'bout damn time. Glad to know you know how to do something right." She tipped her head towards the bedroom.

Zemma actually laughed out loud at that, and had to control herself from laughing even more at Jack's disgruntled face. "You've had all morning to think about it, and that's the best you can do?" Zemma tipped her head over the way it maddened her when Riddick did it.

Jack's face froze, lips drawn into a tight line and eyes glaring.

Zemma kept a benign smile on her face and turned towards the menu console. "You can order over here. There's no lock on that." She was sure Jack knew enough to order herself breakfast.

She turned back just as Riddick came out of the bedroom, took a look at Jack's face, and arched an eyebrow at Zemma. Zemma just tipped one shoulder a little bit in reply. 'What can I do?'

"You forget manners in slam, Jack?"

"Only new bints freak out about privacy in prison, Riddick, you forget that?"

"Good a reason as any to stay the hell out of em. And only new fish look anyway." Riddick's voice could have been quite a bit harsher than it was. Zemma hoped Jack would notice that too.

Jack laughed. "Now what, Old Man? You gonna keep me prisoner here, or pat my ass and send me on my way?"

"Whaddya want, Jack? I wont keep ya if you have other business." Riddick shrugged and threw out one arm indicating the whole ship. "But you'll miss all the excitement." His tone was dry.

Jack snorted.

Zemma busied herself ordering breakfast and clearing the table of the previous night's dishes to put outside the door.

"If I stay, do I get a room with my own little piece of ass…"

Jacks words were cut off by the sound of someone being slapped, hard. Zemma turned; Jack was on the floor holding her jaw with a smirk on her face. Riddick was standing still, looking down on her as if he hadn't moved.

"Careful, there, Old Man, someone might get the idea that you're violating Riddick Rule number two… no emotional attachments to make you weak." She was smiling, and her voice was amused. "Hate to think the Old Man had a weak spot. Someone might take advantage of that. Counter-survival, you know. And that's rule number one." Jack didn't try to get off the floor.

"You got a death-wish, Jack? Keep pushin' my buttons."

"Didn't know you had any." Jack put her hand out to him. "Just wanted to know where I stand."

"You can stand where you want, Jack, but I suggest it be on my good side." He pulled her up.

"Wouldn't dream of it being any other way." Jack's voice was cool, trying to sound reasonable.

Zemma thought there were probably lots of dreams hiding away behind the tough as nails façade. She turned back to the table. She hoped Jack would cool it now that she had achieved her goal: ruffling Riddick's feathers enough to be sure she had his attention. She didn't really think Riddick would kill the girl just for annoying him.

But you don't really know him well enough to be sure.

No. I'm sure. He wouldn't kill her for that.

Didn't really think he'd knock her down, either.

'I can't give her what she wants.'

I think you just did. Why?

Because he can't be something else?

Nature of the beast?

Zemma glanced over her shoulder. Riddick was looking at her, unreadable.


	73. Truce

**Truce**

* * *

The blow seemed to clear the air. Both Jack and Riddick seemed willing to call a truce. Breakfast arrived, music was turned down and the lights up a bit. Neither of them brought up anything that wasn't the Now. Jack had questions about the armada, Mongers and the 'sacrificial war', as she called it. Riddick answered in his usual way.

Zemma thought that 'sacrificial war' was rather apt phrasing, but didn't add anything to the conversation. She felt these two needed time to establish a new connection. Riddick would throw her a querying look now and then, but Zemma would just smile.

Let Jack feel she can have some of you back, she pleaded in her mind.

"So how many Furyans are there now?" Jack asked when Riddick told her about Jaron's revelation shortly before finding the alien armada. Zemma was glad Jaron had told Riddick and it wasn't another thing she'd neglected to mention.

Riddick looked the question to Zemma. She sighed; she didn't know the exact number.

"Jaron only now knows how many he kept hidden. Each of the commanders was very closed mouthed, even with each other."

"No honor among thieves, huh?" Jack kept her eyes purposefully glued to Zemma's.

Riddick raised an eyebrow just a fraction, studying her face. Zemma simply ignored the weak attempt to bait her and hoped he would as well.

"Cell system, actually. Each commander, captains then, only knew two others, and the three below them. No one person had too much information. My father had just one contact: J'Pheth. He knew Jaron R'Ghnell and Don W'Rdah. Both of them knew one other who didn't know J'Pheth personally and obviously none of them used their Furyan names at the time."

Zemma actually suspected Don W'Rdah had always known much more than his cell members. Someone had to keep changing names and dates to keep the soldiers hidden, even from each other. She often wondered how he managed the feat but he was so stoically silent, when he wasn't spitting out criticism, that she would never ask.

If an uneducated girl could rummage around the databases undetected for 20 years, certainly a trained ops man could manage somehow.

"Wait, your father?"

"He was a high ranking… official. That's how I got here."

Jack laughed. "You killed her father?" She punched him in the shoulder. "You dog!" Then she frowned. "Wait a minute, I don't get it. How do they know how many Furyans and who they are?"

"Jaron has three trusted men under him, who each know only him and their own three subordinates. Jaron and Don pass word sideways and down. Everyone does the same and information comes back up to Don who then manipulates the information so that the right men and women receive their transfer orders to come here. Almost everyone here is being transferred out to other ships. The 'Mongers aren't happy about it but this new war will keep them distracted."

"So you're moving all the other 'shine jobs' here to this ship?"

"This ship and two others." Zemma knew Jaron wanted at least three.

"Send the rest down to die." Jack was putting it together now.

"We'll scuttle the other ten or eleven ships." Zemma said.

When Jack looked at her askance, it was Riddick who clarified. "We're going to crash them into the battlefield."

"And fly home to Fury?" Jack looked amazed at the scope.

"To see what's left, yes." No one talked about what would happen if Fury were uninhabitable. 'Monger destruction had never been revisited, people converted and planets died. That wasn't the Now though; obviously they would deal with it when they got there. But it had been thirty-two years. There had to be something to build on.

"Damn! The greatest mass murder in history! I can see the headlines now, 'Riddick slaughters millions'."

Hundreds of thousands really… Zemma declined to correct her.

"Plan on calling the press, Jack?" Riddick's voice was dry.

"Hell, you should be calling the guys who write the history books. You're gonna be the most feared and legendary man in the universe."

Zemma didn't like the look on Riddick's face on hearing Jack's joyful words. 'I think being legendary isn't good for my lifestyle,' he had told her once.

"So then you just gonna build a log cabin and settle down with the little missus here?"

Zemma kept her face carefully serene. Her mental armor had snapped up at the very thought.

I can never go down.

Everyone's going home but me.

Blank. Stay blank.

Zemma counted her heartbeats until they slowed, while she seemed engrossed in her eggs. She could tell Riddick was looking at her from the corner of her eye, so she looked up and smiled at him.

Not fooling him.

"What about the Hell Hounds?"

Ah, thank you Jack, blessed Jack!

"Armored cats," Riddick told her.

"Cats? Like kitty cats?" Jack sounded dubious.

"Only if you like your kitties drinking blood from a saucer instead of milk." Riddick was trying to be humorous but Zemma could hear an edge in his voice.

Damn it, Riddick. Quit being so fucking hyper aware of every little thing.

"And you just happen to own one for a pet?"

"Zemma does."

"'Pet' is understating the relationship, I think." Zemma was proud her voice had no waver in it. "She's been my only friend for a long time."

That caused Jack's eyebrows to shoot up. Damn. Should have dropped the 'only'. Well, maybe a little ammunition will give her more interesting shots to fire at least.

"How long?"

"Almost eighteen years." Nor was getting old. Another decade left with her friend maybe? She hoped so. "The 'Mongers couldn't tame the first ones they took from Fury. They were kept on the Ag ship. When I was just about fifteen they brought two kits over for the Lords' zoo. I named them Nik and Nor. Nik died… a year ago."

"Ag ship?"

"Agriculture. Where do you think we get eggs in the middle of backwater space?" Zemma smiled and dropped a wink at Jack.

"Like an Ark then? How many ships does this fleet have?"

"One Command, thirteen Battle plus Ag, Lab, Tech and Indust. They all have names. This one is 'Basilica', but I never thought of it as anything but 'The Ship'."

Gilded Cage. Mad House. Prison. Slam.

But never 'home'. Home was supposed to be Fury.

"When we scuttle the battle cruisers, we'll keep all the support vessels."

Zemma was tired of talking. Everything led back to a topic that was just not Now and would only unhinge her if she dwelled on it. Time to go to her old suite, now Nor's, and feed her friend.

"Speaking of Nor, she needs breakfast too. I'll be back later."

Riddick's eyes seemed to say 'come here', but Zemma pretended not to see.

Running away again.

Oh, shut up.

"Zem…" Low rumble, bordering on command.

"I'll be back after practice." Zemma didn't turn back, but just waved as she headed for the door.


	74. Maelstrom

**Maelstrom**

* * *

Nor was fine. Jaron had been there before her, so Nor was already fed, and lazy. Zemma sat and rubbed her in all her soft places.

"Gonna let you go home, though." Zemma told her in Furyan. "I wont make you stay on this ship with me."

They would keep the ships in orbit, whether Fury was livable or not. They would need the communications and the defenses. Everything on the ground was likely to be rustic for the first few years, maybe a decade, as they pulled machinery from the ships to get started on the ground. Jaron said they wouldn't make the same mistake twice; technology was necessary for defenses.

"You're father was right, and we were too pig-headed to see it before it was too late."

It was the kindest thing anyone ever said about her father and it nearly melted her armor. She'd had to walk away on some pretense to keep the tears from showing.

You cry a lot more since you dropped Min.

That's not a bad thing, she told herself. She was safe to feel again. It was a luxury long denied.

So while there would always be a skeleton crew on all the ships, cycling down to the planet on their days off, Zemma would be the only full time member. Jaron didn't know she was agoraphobic yet. But Riddick did. There would be no log cabin for the 'missus'. Would he want to live that way? Did he even want to live at Fury at all? He'd never said. He'd said the journey to take back Fury would be interesting, not that living there would be.

He'd be safe from mercs there.

Safe was not necessarily his goal in life. She knew that. Nature of the beast.

Don't have to stay at Fury. There's a whole universe out there to explore.

And leave the only friends I've ever known? Leave behind the only goal I've ever had besides hide and survive? Rebuilding Fury was a good thing, she wanted to see it happen. It would justify her whole existence. Justify her father's sacrifice, her mother's death.

And where is Riddick in this fantasy?

Wherever he chooses to be.

And if it isn't Fury? Will you go with him?

If he asks. Yes. The only love I've ever known.

More important than friends, goals, a life's sacrifice?

Maybe.

Zemma wasn't going to get anywhere in this train of thought. It was the same thinking that had driven her from the suite. None of it was good, and none of it was Now. If she had to choose again between Riddick and Nor? She didn't like the answer to that. Riddick and friends? Same answer.

But would he choose to live in space and never set foot on a planet again?

She didn't like the answer to that either.

Time to go.

She wouldn't have any choices to make when Now gets here if she didn't learn to fly. Zemma called for the time on the scene wall. Damn it! She was very late. W'Rdah would have her hide if he could. Zemma rubbed her friend's ears and left, still ill at ease.

None of this is Jack's fault.

I know it.

She just brought the Now into focus.

I'm not mad at Jack. Damn it.

You're worried she'll take Riddick away with her.

I worry too much.

Zemma was running, but stopped soon enough to catch her breath. Poise, again. W'Rdah would have enough to give her hell about without showing up like some…

…kid

Zemma heard voices; Jack's talking to W'Rdah. She stopped to listen. W'Rdah was replying to her.

"Now, see, I got no problem killing this girl. But the Lord Marshal Riddick might not like it. Or maybe he'd just get over it?"

Zemma left fast.

So much for learning to fly.

So much for grinning like an idiot all day.

---

"Where have you been?" Anger.

Zemma froze. Her jaw hurt from clenching all day, her eyes sore from crying. And she just didn't have the ability to speak right now. She shook her head and twitched her shoulder: 'Nowhere.'

She headed for the bedroom; she was very tired, and it was very late.

"Not good enough. Come here." Command voice?

Zemma stopped and just sighed. She closed her eyes and counted. When she opened them Riddick was still sprawled in a big overstuffed chair in the blacked out seating area. He was mostly a big luminescent blob with her blue lenses up and tears held in check.

"Zemma." Softer now. "Come here." Still an order, just not the kind you give to servants and children. She moved over to him, her armor up and arms wrapped around herself. She couldn't look at him, she would break down.

"W'Rdah came to see me today. He said you didn't show up for drills." Flat, emotions held in check, waiting for the answer.

Zemma felt her whole body clench, and she couldn't stop the resultant trembling. She just looked at the floor and shook her head a little. There was too much in her head to try to talk. She'd lost the Now in the maelstrom of conflicting fears about her future.

"Jaron said he saw you, but you ran off."

Zemma only nodded again. She'd gone looking for Jaron, but he had been with Vaako, and they both had looked angry. Zemma didn't know why; she hadn't broken into Vaako's suite again. But it was just one more stress she didn't want to deal with right then. She'd found solace in the darkness of the bowels of the ship.

"Where have you been?"

Her brain felt like mush. She just wanted to sleep and hope things would look better in the morning. Riddick stood up so quickly and smoothly that Zemma cringed back; the big blue blob was going to crash into her.

"What the hell?"

Oh, yeah, anger again. Great.

Riddick grabbed Zemma by the shoulders and gave her a single abrupt shake. "Talk to me!" He growled, suppressing the actual yell that had been forming. Zemma just tightened up, muscles aching, into a rigid pillar. She couldn't begin to know where to start talking.

"This drama drummed up for Jack's sake? You afraid of me now?"


	75. Insight

**Insight**

* * *

"I'm no damn lap cat." Riddick growled.

Huh?

"Jack wanted tough, I treated her tough." Flat, but the anger was showing through.

Fuck, Jack again?

"I don't need another insolent little girl jerking my chains." Now Riddick was shaking; the urge to follow anger with violence nearly overwhelming.

"Keep this up and I'll take you over my knee." Heavy sarcasm.

Zemma's head snapped up to face him, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched tight. A tiny disbelieving shake of her head: 'You wouldn't dare.'

The movement came so quick she had no chance to respond to it. She was face down over his lap, his hand flying at her in three rapid strikes. It stung like hell without really hurting, but it shocked her more than anything. She'd never been spanked in her whole life and now…

Riddick's hand stayed where it landed, she felt a gentle squeeze, then he tipped her up off his lap. One hand still held her by the arm and the other her backside. She found herself on her knees between his. The hand on her arm moved to the back of her neck.

"Talk to me." More orders.

She slapped him instead.

He slapped her backside again and his hand rested there, while the other still clutched the back of her neck, massaging the muscles there as he looked into her face.

"Talk to me." More softly, but still firmly.

Zemma unclenched her jaw and opened her mouth but it was tears that came first, silently streaming down her face. She leaned into the hand on her neck while his other hand gently massaged where he had struck her.

"Talk to me," he whispered.

The dam broke.

"I'm afraid of the future," she choked out in a rush before her breath hitched back into her throat.

Riddick pulled her forward into his chest, stroking her hair, and whispered, "Good girl. Talk to me."

Zemma was trying to control her breathing. "I don't know if I can…" she started.

Riddick swatted her again and Zemma's head came up suddenly. He laid a hand on her face. "Fight it."

Zemma nodded and felt here head clear a tiny bit. Like Jaron attacking her that first night; pain, shock, fighting back… that was the way back to the Now. He wasn't really hurting her, so there was no adrenaline kick to help her along.

And he wasn't going to knock her down like he did Jack. He wouldn't leave bruises like Jaron had.

'Fight it.'

Fight back.

'Talk to me.'

She remembered how telling Jaron about the night in Riddick's room, when he had nearly been poisoned by the lady, had hurt so much in her head but out loud she could nearly laugh at it.

"What if I can't step foot on Fury? What if I have to live on this damn ship forever?" More tears came.

"Good girl." He stroked her face and ran his other hand up and down her back.

It still sounded frightening to her out loud, and her breathing began to hitch again.

Riddick swatted her ass again hard, and she sucked in her breath. He immediately started rubbing the spot and tipped her face back up to look at him again. "Then we'll deal with it." He rubbed away tears on her cheek with his thumb.

Oh! Concerned look. She closed her eyes before she could break down completely, but nodded against his hand.

"Is that all?" Almost amusement in his voice.

She wanted to yell that it was more than enough; she just shook her head no instead.

And Don W'Rdah's threat? No, she couldn't go there. Riddick would over-react for sure.

'Don't keep anything more from me,' he had told her. The dilemma kept her mute.

"Zemma…" Warning in his voice. The hand on her backside massaged heavily- a reminder that he wasn't above using pain as a motivator.

She opened her mouth. "I'm terrified of losing you."

Holy hells, as Jack might have said. What was she thinking?

There was a soft chuckle in response. Riddick took her face in his hands and kissed her.

"Thought you'd chase me all over the universe?" His voice was light and as usual, mocking.

"All you'd have to do is go planet side to lose me."

"Don't tend to stay on planets long. Like to keep moving. Could be useful to have another pilot along." He sounded musing. He tapped his chin as if thinking about it.

"You're teasing me again." She tried a smile.

"You're talking again."

"Point for you." This time she did manage a smile.

Riddick reached around and slapped her backside once again.

Zemma gasped. "What was that for?"

Both his hands were back there now, rubbing. "I like making it feel better."

Zemma caught his face in her hands and bit his lip.


	76. Revelation

**Revelation**

* * *

Zemma was still biting his lip when Riddick asked, "Feel better now?"

Zemma let her fingertips stroke his head and face lightly. Without actually relinquishing his lip she replied, "Not yet." They grinned at each other, nose to nose.

Her hands dropped down his neck and shoulders and crossed to his chest. His came slowly up her back, massaging away her tension. Zemma turned the bite into a kiss. But when she leaned into him, her hands searching to get under the edge of his shirt, he pulled back and caught them in his own.

"Not yet," he told her.

Zemma sat back and looked at him. "What?"

"We still have unfinished business." Firm, but not unkind.

Zemma waited.

"You're still evading me."

Zemma sighed.

"You didn't disappear for fifteen hours over Fury, and not being sure how I feel about you. Is it Jack?"

Zemma choked out a short mirthless laugh. "No, not Jack."

This time Riddick waited.

"It used to be that I would feel overwhelmed, and talk to my ferrin, my father. Later he…was so distant, I would hide or talk to my cats. Jaron, he's like any father a girl could want. You are not like a father to me." Zemma leaned in and kissed him softly. "I want to be strong around you but… you make me feel so weak inside. It scares me. And I don't know how to tell you that."

"You just did." Zemma could hear the smile in his voice.

"All of the sudden I have lots of strange fears. All about the future." She tipped her head into chest.

"Losing me, landing dirt side on Fury, and what else?"

Zemma didn't think, she just spoke, "W'Rdah."

Oh, Zemma, should you?

"All hot air." He murmured comfortingly. When Zemma stiffened in his arms he tipped her face up to look at him. "Came to see me, remember? Dragging Jack by the scruff. _SHE_ says he misunderstood her. You did too." Again, it wasn't even a question.

"You already knew?"

He didn't reply, answer enough.

"You're not afraid of me. I like that. But trust me. Sometimes I do save the maiden."

Zemma gaped. Jaron had been talking! Riddick laughed and closed her mouth with a kiss.

"He loves you. I don't begrudge him that, despite what you think. Just come to me, okay?"

"How do you know what I think?" Zemma couldn't resist teasing him with her voice. "You're wrong about what I think of Jack. I like her… and I think she needs a kick in the head."

Riddick laughed and Zemma's heart soared with the sound. She did feel better, now.

"But, Riddick, she's right about my being your weak spot. It has been the problem from the first. I couldn't bear losing you because of me."

"And in fifteen hours, did you come up with a solution to that problem, that doesn't involve you running away?"

"No," begrudgingly. "I just kept thinking about Nor without Nik. I'm not as strong as Nor."

"You're a survivor. You're stronger than you think."

"I'm not your equal."

Yet.

"You don't have to be."

When Zemma didn't answer he pulled her close and whispered in her ear, as if imparting a secret. "You balance me." Then his lips searched out her neck, as he reached to unbraid her hair.

"Why don't you trust me with the story of you and Jack?" Zemma asked breathlessly before he could completely distract her. That made him pause, but only for the barest second.

"Once upon a time," he whispered against her skin. "Eleven people and a convict lived through a crash, only to discover monsters worse than the murderer among them."

He kissed her where he neck met her shoulder, and finding he could go no further, stopped to unzip her shirt partway. He pulled it partway down, exposing more flesh but not freeing her of its constraint.

"The world passed into darkness and only the man who wasn't a man could see." He whispered in between nips on her shoulder. Zemma shuddered, but not from the story.

"The man who wasn't a man didn't want to save the others, but another man had a gun. And so bargain was struck." Riddick busied himself with the other shoulder for a moment before going on. "When the real villain showed his true colors, the murderer killed him to save a little girl."

"Ah."

"Still, the murderer gave into his animal side and left the others to die." Zemma found her shirt pulled down further as she was pulled up. Where Riddick now spoke against her skin gave her goose bumps. "But a real woman, the hero of our story, did not give up. She made the killer into a man. Then died in his arms. He never forgot her."

This turned Zemma's head from the ceiling to the face of the man before her. He paused to look back at her. "And so a child, a cleric, and a criminal escaped with their lives changed, and a bond formed." Riddick's rubbed his hands up and down Zemma's bare arms as he looked into her face.

"But the new man feared what the change might bring when the child killed to protect him. He ran away to live like an animal, leaving the child and the cleric in God's hands. It was a mistake. God is a sadist."

Zemma was more than a little surprised at the sheer poetry she was hearing, masking what was undoubtedly horror. It was a side of him she supposed no one was allowed to see. She didn't mind being a captive audience, in fact grateful to trust and be trusted.

"And now?" She asked.

"Now." He sighed and rubbed his hands over her shoulders and neck. "Now, the cleric is dead. The child is grown. The assassin is king." He bent back to kissing her neck. "And a maiden has become a real woman."

Zemma shivered.


	77. Taking Measure

**Taking Measure**

* * *

Zemma put her head on Riddick's chest and listened to his heart, their legs still intertwined, their bodies still sweaty.

"What was her name?"

Riddick didn't hesitate, "Carolyn."

"And the cleric?"

"Imam."

"How did he die?"

When he didn't respond she picked her head up and looked at him. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed together.

"Oh." 'Mongers, of course, on that last planet, where he thought he was burying Jack. Where Jack was supposed to stay with the cleric. In the end, would Jack have lived if she had obeyed him? In the end… well that wasn't the Now. The Now was that she had taken her life in her own hands, and become something both alien and eerily familiar to Riddick.

Just as Riddick was both alien and familiar to her; he always surprised her, but she understood him too. He always had a purpose, he always approached a problem with the intent that he would solve it, and…

And he's a control freak.

Zemma giggled.

"Something funny?"

"Nothing really, my brain just makes strange leaps sometimes."

"You should get some sleep, I ordered breakfast for five."

"Hmmm."

"You don't mind?" He almost sounded as if he were expecting her to mind.

"Why would I?" She couldn't think of a reason, but then her mind had gone from one kind of mush to another.

"Some women would want to know more than four hours ahead of time to expect guests."

"Oh."

"You don't wanna know who?"

There's such a long list of people I actually talk to.

"I'd guess Jaron, Jack, and Don. Do I win something?"

Riddick laughed. "You don't care that Don's coming? After what you thought you heard?"

"I have to face him eventually. And I have to apologize eventually. Breakfast is as fine a time as any. I'll put on a good face."

And watch his pretty carefully.

"You seem pretty relaxed after spending all yesterday working yourself up."

"Point for you," she smiled against his chest. "You balance me."

Riddick ran his hand over her hair.

"How many women have you been with?" She asked suddenly.

"What?" He sounded rather surprised. She almost never surprised him.

Point for me.

"You said 'most women', like you've been with lots of women, but from what I could tell, you didn't have a lot of time in your life for relationships. Prison at eight, escaped at what, eighteen? More prison and more escapes. You're about my age aren't you?"

"Why?" Guarded again.

"Why not? Why shouldn't I know about women?" Zemma rolled over, crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them, looking at his face. "The past doesn't scare me, just the future."

"There was some time for some women."

Zemma waited. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Zemma shrugged and rolled over, putting her head on his shoulder.

"Go to sleep," he told her. Subject closed.

'Closed', my ass. You can be stubborn if you want to, but so can I.

"Was there time for Carolyn?"

Zemma found her head dumped on the bed as Riddick suddenly sat up and looked at her.

Oops. Too far.

"What?"

"You said she made you a man, I assumed you meant character, and not sexually. Am I wrong?"

"No. There was never time for Carolyn." Flat, emotionless again.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

"For what?"

"I'm sorry you never had that time. But I'm glad you knew her. She must have been something."

"Go to sleep." He sighed as if exasperated, but he was smiling just a little.

"What?" She asked.

"You are the strangest thing…" He pulled her into his chest and tucked blankets around her chin.

"But…" She didn't really have anything more to say, she was just teasing him.

"Shhh. Sleep."

Control freak.

Zemma smiled to herself and counted his heartbeats until she fell asleep.

…

Zemma woke first, at least, she was pretty sure she did. He could be so still sometimes, and be completely aware. Tricky bastard. She tried sliding away from him, but sure enough, he grabbed her without opening his eyes.

"Going somewhere?" There was mischief in his voice.

"Bathroom, closet, to the bar to make tea… should I tie a string to my foot so you don't lose track of me between here and there?" Her voice was facetious.

"Hmmn." He seemed to be considering the idea.

Zemma spoke a few choice words in Furyan. That made him open his eyes and look at her.

"And that means…?"

"If you can pronounce it right you can ask Jaron," she laughed. "Just don't tell him you heard it from me."

"Do I need to take you over my knee again?"

"You want me to lock you out of this suite?"

He laughed and let her go. She scrambled off the bed before he could actually take a swipe at her ass. She showered and dressed, and still he wasn't out of bed. As she was braiding her hair the door call chimed. He still made no move to get out of bed.

"If you think I'm serving you breakfast there, you better think again," she told him as she left the room.

He always does things with a purpose… what's the set up?

Don was the set up. He was the first to arrive.

"Commander W'Rdah," Zemma nodded respectfully and waved an arm to invite him in.

"NeeW'Neta," he paused at the door and looked uncomfortable.

Zemma controlled her face at the change of status he had just afforded her. She could see there was something on his mind but didn't feel he should stand outside the door with the guards while he debated it. She took his arm and led him inside.

"Breakfast hasn't arrived yet but I was about to make tea. Would you like some?"

W'Rdah nodded once, then straightened his shoulders and stated rather formally, "Yes, thank you."

Zemma pictured a child being smacked in the back of the head and told to stand up straight and be polite. She turned to fetch the tea and smiled to herself… Poor Spyri.

What was taking Riddick?

Zemma called for music, and one of Jaron's garden scenes she liked. The string instruments seemed perfectly timed with the movement of the trees and she found the combination soothing. It also didn't show much blue sky.

"I must apologize to you, Commander, for missing class. I know your time is valuable and you have been very considerate taking me on…" Zemma glanced up at him.

He was standing at military rest, not looking at her. His face was blank but his body language tense. He was much better at being unreadable than the dead J'Pheth had been. Still, she needed to get a bead on this man. Jack had supposedly been misunderstood by this man, and so the actual target of his statement, "I could kill this girl." Zemma needed to be sure.

Don't you trust Riddick to be sure?

No harm in knowing for myself.

Zemma crossed the room and sat in one of the oversized chairs. "Sit down, Don." Her words were soft, kindly. She felt rather brazen calling him Don. She'd only done it once before, but he had come through with the poker chips after that. Besides, this was her suite, and Min was packed away with other childish things.

W'Rdah sat on the very edge of one of the couches.

"I know you don't have very much reason to like me…" Zemma started.

Don's head came up at this and Zemma was taken aback at what she saw in his eyes. He was surprised. Had she been reading this man wrong the whole time? She had taken his attitude at face value. She was simply used to dislike. There was no one in her experience to relate to this. Jaron was a father figure, Riddick a new entity as a lover, even Lord Vaako was merely indifferent to her presence. Zemma waited to see what would play out, feeling a little lost, not knowing the right face to wear.

"Zemma," W'Rdah began. "I've been hard on you."

Zemma controlled her face. Another first, calling her by name.

Don looked down and his hands. Jaron tended to converse slowly too, picking his words carefully. Zemma watched his whole body but he gave so very little away she had to wait for him to speak. Though at this point she wasn't sure he even intended to continue.

"I met your father once when he was young."

Zemma froze inside, yet another conversation about her father's inadequacies. Outwardly she kept a benign smile on her face, but he didn't look at her.

"I thought I knew the measure of him. I wasn't impressed."

Zemma waited and wondered why Riddick was taking so long. Had he finally gotten out of bed?

"I was wrong about him, too."

That snapped her attention back to Don W'Rdah. He was looking at her now. Was she reading apology from him? He normally looked cold and forbidding. This was a new face.

"Be careful of that Jack," he whispered.

A short buzzer sounded. Tea was ready. Zemma got up to get it, still composed, but her mind reeling. Don had only spoken five sentences to her, but they seemed to change the entire nature of him.


	78. Shadow

**Shadow**

* * *

Zemma carried the tea service to the low table near Don and excused herself long enough to peek in the bedroom. Riddick was no longer in bed at least. Zemma walked to the bathroom, leaned against the doorjamb and listened to the sounds of running water.

"Did you hear all that?" She asked him.

"I heard it yesterday."

Zemma didn't reply. She felt anxious, but knew she couldn't hide in the bedroom. "Tea is ready when you are." She walked back out, composing her face, and sat opposite Don.

"Riddick should be out soon."

"You don't call him Richard?" Don asked.

"He hasn't asked me to. Do you?"

Don chuckled, the first time Zemma had heard him do so. "No." He looked as if his tongue would fall out at the very idea. Zemma smiled in return.

"Do you know why we're having this breakfast meeting?"

Don looked faintly curious. "He didn't tell you?"

"I didn't ask."

"Jaron wants another party." He sounded amused.

Zemma smiled bigger.

"He was a rich man before all this. I think sometimes he misses the gala."

"I didn't know that." Zemma tried to picture Jaron a Furyan Lord, but simply lacked the experience to see him in anything but his 'Monger armor or his favorite lounging clothes. She knew the basic history of Fury, and it's social makeup, but could remember none of it.

"What was that like? Before the 'Mongers?" Zemma sipped her tea.

Don looked at her, as if deciding what was worth telling.

"Well, despite our rather cutting remarks, we didn't really live in the stone age. We had technology. But it was a running argument how much more we needed and how much better it might be without it."

Zemma nodded, and waited to see if he would continue.

"Jaron owned quite a nice place. Member of parliament. His own personal army. He was a good leader, the towns under his direction flourished. He enjoyed it all."

"Was he married?"

"Yes." Don looked a little sad. "She's dead. No children."

"Ferrin said we lived in a city, a republic?" Zemma hoped he would keep talking, this was interesting. Her father had talked a lot when she was young, teaching her Furyan history. And Jaron's dead wife suddenly felt sacrosanct to her; she wouldn't ask Don to tell her what Jaron hadn't.

"There were several autonomous governments, city-states, mostly. They wanted to band together and form one government. The landlords wanted to keep their independence. Your father stood for a middle ground, for technology's sake rather than power, greater bargaining control with other planets, and a mutual defensive network. We voted him in as a sovereign president. It's too bad the 'Mongers chose that time to invade." Don paused and looked at Zemma.

"I can see now that he only tried to do the right thing in a situation that must have seemed hopeless to him. He did right by you. Jaron tells me it's likely that J'Pheth killed his own men, and may have never passed on any order from your father to begin the revolt."

"I never knew anything about that, Sir. But in the last few years my father became very depressed and uncommunicative. I have often wondered since meeting you if that wasn't the very reason. And why he killed himself." Zemma had to stop and focus on her breathing.

"I didn't know that. I thought the Lord Marshal killed him."

"I think he sent Riddick, to do what he couldn't."

To save me?

"To take command," Don nodded as if this made perfect sense to him. "And to keep what he killed?" Don looked at Zemma as if seeing her clearly for the first time. He had the same thought as she did. Zemma counted heartbeats and commanded herself not to blush.

The door call chimed again. Zemma was glad for the interruption. She didn't need to go to the door to answer it but she did. She caught sight of Riddick finally making his appearance from the corner of her eye.

About damn time.

Gotta learn to talk to people, old girl.

It wasn't Jaron and Jack, it was breakfast. Zemma wondered if Jack was giving him fits about what to wear. Something caught her eye down the long hall, something out on the main concourse. A shadow in a shadow? Zemma kept her eye on the dark spot while servants brought in two carts of food and hastily worked to unload it on the table. Critical crew and servants were nearly all that was left that weren't Furyan. Zemma wondered if the seamstress was considered critical crew. She certainly thought the cooks were! Breakfast smelled lovely.

Zemma decided someone was hiding in her hiding place, but the bright lights between here and there foiled her blue lenses and she dropped them. She told the door to close behind the departing, and nervous, non-Furyans. Probably Jack had escaped Jaron. She turned back to the table. Don and Riddick exchanged the briefest hello in history; Riddick nodded his chin up, Don nodded down once, and they both began picking at the food. Zemma smiled. No wonder these two got along. Zemma joined them.

Before Zemma could sit back down in her chair with her breakfast treats the door chimed again. This time she just called it open. Jack preceded Jaron with a painfully artificial smile on her face. She was dressed in one of Jaron's long silky shirts, belted like a dress, and her boots. She looked annoyed. Zemma controlled her need to giggle. No one else said anything either.

"Good morning. Food's on the table." Zemma heard long striding footsteps outside the door before she called it closed. Lord Vaako rushed in. Ah, so it wasn't Jack that caught her eye in the shadows.

"Good morning, Commander. Would you like some breakfast?" She asked him levelly.

"What's going on here?" He demanded. He hadn't come around the curve of the room to see Riddick yet. "If there is to be a meeting of the Commanders, as First, I should be here."

Jaron turned towards Vaako, anger showing on his face, but Zemma spoke first.

"Do you have something to report about the upcoming battle, Commander?" She stood and used the voice she had tried on him before, in his suite.

Vaako turned from a confrontation with his rival to 'Lady Zemma.'

"We're 40 hours from the proposed landing site. Everything is in order."

"Excellent. Then join us for breakfast." She pitched the command voice into an invitation and waited to see what would happen. Riddick waited as well, hand on one of his stashed weapons, still out of sight by the curve of the wall.

Vaako hesitated, he had been looking for the fight with Jaron, in front of the Lord Marshal, probably to have his status repudiated, or recognized. Zemma made a beeline for him and took his arm.

"I'm thinking we should have a state dinner, Lord Vaako." She dropped her voice to an intimate level, "I hope your wife will be well enough to attend this time?"

Risky move, Zem, maybe you shouldn't knock him too far off his feet bringing her up in public?

Zemma raised her voice to conversational level. "Lord R'Ghnell has been kind enough to offer his advice to me this morning." She glanced at Jaron with an eyebrow raised. Thankfully he nodded.

"Have you met, Jack?" Zemma led Vaako into the room.

Vaako barely glanced at the girl but Zemma didn't care for the look on Jack's face.

It was predatory.


	79. A Little Color

**A Little Color**

* * *

Zemma almost instantly regretted her choice to invite Lord Vaako to stay. She honestly hadn't expected him to accept. He looked equally uncomfortable as everyone else in the room. Only Jack kept a smile on her face as she studied the newcomer.

She didn't care for the look on Riddick's face either: it was annoyed. He was ready to cut Vaako loose and move Jaron up. Zemma had no real logical reason for resisting. But Vaako had been kinder than most in the past and she wanted to repay the favor. He was still a good commander, even Jaron said his duties were still flawless. And she felt sorry for him. He could be 'one of them' but for his wife.

But for going slowly insane. Look at his eyes.

It's just this ship.

"So you're First Commander?" Jack asked. "Will you be leading the troops against the clay-faces then?" The question sounded innocent enough, but Jack knew what they were planning on doing to those troops.

Vaako threw a dark look at Riddick. "If my Lord Marshal allows it."

Riddick didn't respond in any way. Perhaps he still would, but for now he wasn't going to set up a confrontation with Zemma. Not that Zemma planned on openly disagreeing with Riddick, if that's what he chose to do. She had no idea if Vaako was even savable.

Look at his eyes and say that.

Certainly Dame Vaako was going to be a continuing problem either way. Zemma wished she could sneak away to see the Lady's condition for herself. Maybe she could enlist Don's help this time.

Jaron came to sit near Zemma. "I've been sending ladies to the seamstress for fittings," he mentioned casually.

Ah, so he considered the seamstress and her crew to be critical personnel as well. Zemma smiled, he did miss the gala.

"I think you will be surprised at the new line available today," he continued.

Zemma raised her eyebrows. New Ladies - female Furyan soldiers. New line - Furyan styles?

Jaron nodded almost imperceptibly and grinned at her.

"I've also sent a new menu to the cooks. And I have some men who still remember how to play an instrument."

Zemma was starting to feel excited for the first time ever about a party. A Furyan party.

"I've already made arrangements for our honored guest." Jaron's voice was all too casual.

Honored guest? Zemma's eyes darted to Jack.

Jaron returned a tiny headshake.

Not Jack. A 'clay face' then? When did that happen?

Zemma looked a question to Riddick, 'You knew about this?'

His eyebrow raised the barest fraction and a quirk of his mouth said, 'Of course.'

She looked at Don. His expression was as simple as it was gruff, 'Don't look at me girlie.'

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the unspoken conversation, Jack was trying to chat up Lord Vaako, only somewhat fruitfully. She had finally hit on a subject that interested him: his own success. She wasn't quite cooing over him, but was paying more attention than Zemma would have guessed a girl who didn't lean towards men might.

Don gave Zemma another look that said, 'Remember what I said.'

Riddick said nothing, and missed nothing, eating quietly and watching them all as if he didn't have a care in the world. But Zemma could see better.

It was Jack and Vaako that drew his attention most often.

This fact did not escape Jack's notice either. She was eating it up.

"Why didn't you wear the clothes I gave you yesterday, Jack?" Zemma asked.

"Don't you think they make ya look a little 'hippy'?" Jack was flippant as she smoothed the long silky shirt past her own slim hips for emphasis. "Besides, I wanted a little color."

Jack didn't notice Riddick rise and approach her from behind until his hands were on her shoulders. She stiffened a moment, but nearly melted back into him, until he turned the high collar of the shirt down, revealing a set of fingertip sized bruises.

"A little color?" He asked her, as she jerked away.

Don's words echoed in Zemma's head, 'Now, see, I got no problem killing THIS girl. But the Lord Marshal Riddick might not like it. Or maybe he'd just get over it?'

Don's face revealed nothing, as usual. He looked stern and bad-tempered as ever. Zemma could see nothing of the charitable face she had witnessed for the first time that morning.

Lord Vaako showed more life in his face than Zemma had seen in awhile; he looked amused.

Jaron stood, "Come, Jack, let us away. We'll have whatever your heart desires made for you." His voice was that of the kindly grandfather doting on his favorite girl. Zemma felt her heart lurch, but controlled any outward appearance.

She needs him more than I do now.

Jack was good at covering her emotions, but Zemma was better at reading them than the average prisoner or guard. Jack had wanted to make Riddick jealous; she wanted his attention in any way she could get it. To Zemma, Jack seemed very much younger than her likely 17 or 18 years. Jaron wasn't enough. Jack's slight glance at Vaako before she grudgingly followed Jaron told Zemma volumes.

Maybe it would be best if Riddick kills Vaako before Jack can make trouble there.

More dying?

A lot more dying ahead, anyway.

Are you as cold as Jack thinks?

Zemma stopped that train of thought. She needed to stay in the Now. And she still needed to survive whatever might still happen. She needed to at least see Fury.

Vaako looked as if he wanted to speak to Riddick alone and was impatient for the rest of them to leave. Don did leave without a word to any of them, but nodded briefly at Zemma before going through the door. Zemma considered it high tribute.

Nor was waiting to be fed, but Zemma didn't want to leave, she wanted to know what Vaako wanted and what Riddick would do. She moved to the bedroom and shut the door behind her, Riddick's raised eyebrows following her.

In the darkness Zemma contemplated her options. She could simply wait. Nor wasn't starving, she wouldn't eat the remaining furniture… much. Zemma looked to the panels behind which were monitors, dark and unused since she had first come here. Cameras covered the suite outside, running here to this room and nowhere else.

Still don't trust Riddick?

I'm just curious.

He won't like you spying.

Zemma didn't answer. Madness was arguing with yourself and losing.

Just a test run. I can feed the security cameras in here later with a little hardwiring.

You think they don't work? Don't do this, Zem.

Zemma hesitated.

'Trust me.'

Trust him.

If you need to know, just ask him. You don't need this to survive.

Zemma moved to the bed and sat, hands clasped in her lap.

Trust him.

She did trust him, but some habits were hard to break. She didn't know about the 'clay-face' and that bothered her. She didn't like being surprised, she wanted to know what was happening and plan accordingly.

No point looking too far into the future, old girl. Don't lose the Now.

There are so few of us left.

He doesn't know, and if he did he might still not be one of us.

We haven't even tried. He knows he is on the outside of something larger going on.

Zemma waited, counting her heartbeats.


	80. A New Player

**A New Player**

* * *

Zemma was counting heartbeats again later that day, as she stared at the dead body of a female Furyan trooper. Another soldier stood beside Zemma in the doorway, reporting what she had seen for both Don (via the PA system) and Zemma's benefit. Jack was trying to crowd in for a look.

Zemma hunched down, looking carefully at the body. "You're sure she's dead?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You went in there to check?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Commander…" Zemma called towards the PA pickups. "I don't think she's dead." Zemma thought she could see tiny eye movements and the shallowest of respirations. "Do you have infrared that can see into that room?"

"No. And Riddick killed all the Lensors the first day he was Lord Marshal."

"Can't blame him," the soldier next to Zemma muttered under her breath.

Zemma agreed. The Lensors always gave her the creeps and she avoided them at all costs. She never really knew what they saw inside her, so she gave them little chance to look. The half-dead half-mechanical recycled soldier, on a ship already as dark as this one, was even more disturbing than day-to-day life had been.

"We never let one of ours become a Lensor," the soldier whispered.

Zemma nodded grimly at her. She was glad of that. But it made her think of the science ship, really the breeder ship, and all those still caught in stasis and experimented on. They had done nothing about it, yet.

"Commander, why did you call me for this? I can't see how anything I know will help here."

"Because the trooper that should be in that cabin never got on a transport."

Zemma leapt to the natural conclusion. He was still here somewhere, hiding. And she was an expert on hiding.

Don continued, "We are more short handed than you know…"

"Does the Lord Marshal know?" She interrupted him sharply.

"Yes."

"Then it doesn't matter what I know." Zemma's mind was on the room before her. It was full of jars of bugs, spiders mostly. There was equipment too, and vials of liquids lined shelves. Some were missing, gone into hiding with the owner, no doubt.

The Chemist was loose and he had left a trap for whoever stumbled into his room.

"Commander, we need to get this woman out of here. Any ideas?" Zemma addressed Don.

"Not if she's alive."

Zemma had the same thought. If the soldier was dead they could just close the room and close off the bank of rooms. If a bug was responsible they could contain it. If the trap was mechanical in some way, no one else would stumble upon it.

"Nothing to do but go in and get her." Zemma stood but the marine blocked her path with one arm.

"Lady…" she started.

"Call me Zemma," Zemma smiled.

"No, Ma'am. I'm sorry. Orders."

Zemma wondered if it was orders to call her 'ma'am', or not to go into the room.

And whose orders? Jaron's? Don's? Certainly not Riddick's.

The trooper, unlike Zemma, was well armored. She took a cautious step into the room, gun ready. Then another. A third brought her to the body of her fallen comrade. She reached a cautious hand out towards the other's foot.

Something metallic skittered forward. It looked like a large spider. The standing soldier took hasty aim and fired her gravity gun, grabbed her partner by the foot, and hauled her back towards the door.

The metallic creature, seemingly unharmed by the force that hit it, righted itself and charged again. Zemma hit the lock as soon as the women were clear, and was only just in time. Zemma punched in a command that would keep the previous owner from reopening the door.

And then noticed Jack's attention on the panel.

So someone else can memorize, Zemma smiled to herself.

"Don…" Zemma continued in Furyan, "Change that lock code and keep it to yourself."

"Ten-Four, Lady."

That caught her off guard. She wondered if Don were grinning at her sudden discomfort, before she covered it.

The marine was checking her friend for signs of life. "Send us a stretcher, Commander. Vitals are barely there, but they are there."

Zemma breathed a small internal sigh of relief. She felt so protective of every Furyan life.

"Jack, I think you should go back to the suite."

"Fuck! No way, sister. I've only been here one day and I'm bored to tears. Besides, I've seen you fight, you need backup."

Zemma had to control her need to giggle at the now leather-clad girl. The soldier opposite her seemed to have some other emotion to control. Zemma winked at her and saw a twitch of repressed smile back. Jack's lack of propriety didn't bother Zemma in the least, and she didn't want it to bother this soldier. Both women had other things to worry about than this slip of a girl and her outsized attitude.

Zemma looked for the nearest access panel, then dismissed it. Too public and too close.

"When you were making sure these rooms were clear, did any other catch your eye?"

The soldier shook her head. "No, Ma'am. Everything has been as expected."

"And you've been sealing off as you go?"

"Yes, Ma'am. We call the Commander and he seals the vents and locks the doors. Standard procedure, Ma'am, when running light and fast; less waste."

Zemma nodded. They weren't planning on making any more stops planet side till they got… home. The less power they used the less fuel mass they used up. The faster they moved the less their fusion filters caught in dead space; they would be looking for the clearest run with the least debris.

Zemma pictured men and women with their duffels, grousing about the change in deployment. Zemma walked down the hall in the direction they would have gone. A lone man going the other way would have been noticed. She looked for where he might have slipped away from the group. Jack followed her.

At the main corridor the area became bigger, with several halls branching off and more of the 'Monger 'art' filling the dead space. Zemma looked around, walking slowly. Jack split off from her, wandering slowly the opposite direction from Zemma. There were several possibilities in this junction, but Zemma thought she herself would not have dared them with the room full of people.

Jack disappeared behind a free-standing fresco and called out. "Here. He went in here."

Zemma hurried over, not really thinking that Jack was right but willing to look.

Jack was right!

Zemma smiled at the girl. "Nice catch."

The service panel behind the frieze was tinkered with. Zemma examined it carefully. Her little toy didn't leave scratch marks and she could close it properly behind her so no one could tell it had been opened. It also allowed her to open the panels from the backside. The Chemist would have a harder time getting out than he did getting in unless he just used a catwalk and service door.

No reason not to now, we have so few people compared to before; just enough maintenance crew to keep track of and not have soldiers chasing every leaky pipe.

So. Big ship, and he could hide anywhere.

Fun, fun, fun.

"Feel like getting dirty, Jack?" Zemma asked her.

Jack smiled wickedly but kept her wisecrack to herself. "After you, _Lady_."

Zemma thought her accent on 'Lady' was not especially respectful but let it slide.


	81. And A New Game

**And A New Game**

* * *

Zemma wasn't very familiar with this end of the ship. She seldom had reason to travel to the barracks. They were closer to the engines here and the noise was nearly deafening compared to fifteen stories up where the Lord's suites existed. Zemma twitched up her lenses and looked around for any telltale sign of the missing Chemist. The scrubbers and filters were good enough to keep the dust from settling thickly anywhere and there was none on the catwalk itself.

Jack was walking along the red-lit walkway staring up and down at the cavernous space filled with pipes and assorted machinery.

"Think he's still hiding in here?" Jack asked.

"No. Just need to figure out where he left." Zemma walked along footbridge, tracing the connections and thinking about where they let out. She wasn't paying any attention to Jack.

"Don't fall!" Jack gave a playful push.

Zemma rounded on her. "What is your problem, girl!"

Jack's eyes rounded in mock surprise. "I was just kidding. What's your fucking problem?"

Zemma took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jack, I…"

"Fuck you!"

That was strange, even for Jack.

"You think you can just brush me off!"

"Jack…"

"We had something, before you ever knew anything about him, and now you think you can just brush me off; treat me like a child!"

Oh.

"He wouldn't see me as a kid if it weren't for you!" Jack was shouting, unnecessarily, over the noise.

Sorry, kiddo, he never stopped seeing you as a youngster in his mind. He sacrificed for the child. He never imagined the woman she would grow into.

Like my Ferrin; Riddick never considered life beyond the moment.

Zemma wished she could explain to Jack.

"Jack…"

"Don't you even start your condescending crap with me."

"Jack!"

Jack stopped and glared.

"You don't have to like me. I know you weren't expecting me…"

"Patronizing…" Jack's mouth was a thin line and her eyebrows arched as if to say 'I told ya so.'

Zemma sighed. Jack was right. But Zemma didn't know how to amend it.

"Jack, I'm sorry your parents died and…"

"What do you know about my parents? Huh? Nothing! Riddick was a better role model than they could ever be!"

That made Zemma pause. Had the girl misspoken? Did she mean to make her parents sound alive now? Riddick said they crashed - few survivors. The cleric was supposed to take care of the girl.

Zemma kept her face still. Time for some careful digging.

"I know Riddick feels like a father to you."

Let's see how the girl reacts to that.

Jack waved Zemma's words off and turned to look out into the darkness, gripping the rail of the walkway tightly.

Distance.

Dig deeper.

"Riddick just wanted what was best for you; to give you a chance at life. I'm sure your mother would have understood."

Jack's head turned sharply at the mention of her mother.

Sore spot, still. Interesting.

Jack's eyes blazed, then filled up with tears. "Don't you talk about my mother."

Anger, and defensiveness. Handle that topic with care.

"I don't know anything about her except that her child is a survivor, and lucky enough to have been befriended by a man like Riddick." Zemma hoped her voice conveyed the genuiness of her words.

Jack's tears never spilled, her armor was tight there. Years of hard love and experience.

"He left me." Jack said simply.

"He left you safe." Zemma knew it was an old argument but wanted to keep her talking. She thought about what Riddick had said about God. An alien concept to Zemma, but she understood the emotion behind it.

"He regrets it now you know." Zemma tried, and waited a few minutes for it to sink in.

"I needed him more than he knew." Jack finally responded.

"Why, Jack? You were safe."

"I'll never be safe."

Zemma didn't think that cryptic admission was metaphoric. It was Now. There really was something Riddick didn't know about this girl. Something important.

"Jack…" Zemma started.

Jack's defenses snapped up. Her eyes became hard and wary. The mask of a criminal to keep her safe from…

what…?

From an authority.

Crime was safer than safety. Distant father. Protective of her mother. But she said Riddick was a better role model than her parents: plural and Now.

"Why are you afraid of your parents, Jack?"

Little direct there, Zem. You'll scare her off that way.

But Jack held Zemma's blue eyed gaze levelly. She tossed her head arrogantly and turned away, mumbling something quietly under her breath.

Zemma's hearing was quite good, even over the noise of the engines. Jack's words sent a chill through Zemma, and her mind whirling over the possibilities. Jack's parents were rich and powerful and alive… and looking for her. Zemma was sure of it.

Because Jack had said, "I'm a bigger payday than Riddick will ever be."


	82. Betrayal

**Betrayal**

* * *

"Who are you, Jack?"

"Nobody." Jack's voice was dejected.

"Jack…" Zemma laid her hand on Jack's arm.

Jack turned, swinging. Zemma blocked that, but Jack had worked herself up and continued to attack. Zemma really didn't want to hurt the child, so she just blocked and backed up, hearing Jaron's voice her in her head berate for not attacking.

Keep it under control; don't need two of us flipping out up here.

Oh, just smack her once.

No.

Jack was getting more aggressive as her pent-up feelings found an outlet. Zemma was nearly amused by the ferocity of the petite woman she thought of as a kit. Jack really was quite a good fighter and her frustration was not showing up as mistakes. Still, Zemma could see by the dim catwalk lights better than Jack. Every move was telegraphed, and Zemma had the speed to counter each.

Not wanting to be backed all the way to the access cover, Zemma tried a few challenging moves Jaron had taught her and was rewarded when Jack had to back up instead. Zemma smiled at the girl.

Woman, Zem. She's plenty old enough from the road she's traveled, despite her years.

The smile made Jack pause, and Zemma did not assail her further. Perhaps they were done?

"You want to know about me?"

"Yes."

"Who I am?"

"Yes."

"Fuck you!"

Zemma would have laughed if she weren't suddenly busy. But she wasn't going to back up again. She took Jack more seriously, and worked to make Jack take her more seriously as well. Jack smiled and Zemma's impression of an oversized kit was reinforced by its feral nature. Jack was suddenly enjoying herself.

You are too, admit it.

Okay, it's more fun when death isn't on the line.

Jack took an extra step back and paused to look Zemma up and down. Zemma also stood back and took a relaxed posture, one that would let her react more immediately than she previously could in the defensive stance she had been taught as a girl. She could see Jaron smile in her mind.

Jack feinted. Zemma didn't react. Jack smiled and as Zemma smiled back Jack leaped.

Zemma knocked her flat.

"Are we done, now?"

Jack wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and cocked one eyebrow at the slight smear of blood she found there.

"I guess you're better than I thought."

"Mmmm."

"This doesn't make us friends."

"Heavens forbid," Zemma laughed. She held out a hand to Jack to help her up.

Jack looked from Zemma's hand to her face.

"I wont tell you anything."

Zemma shrugged. She would see. Jack didn't have to tell her much to give Zemma the lead she needed to uncover the truth. She waited patiently for Jack to take her hand.

"He doesn't love you. He doesn't love anyone. He's just using your body." Jack's voice said volumes about both her opinion and experience with being used.

Zemma smiled in her head at hearing her own thoughts echoed back at her.

"You worried he's gonna leave me?" Zemma raised her eyebrows and held her hand steady.

"Aren't you?"

"Constantly."

Jack finally smiled, shook her head, and took Zemma's hand. Zemma pulled her up and turned the helping hand into a handshake.

"Zemma Enon W'Neta, pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Jack," she paused and quirked her mouth. "But that's all you get."

Zemma shrugged as if nothing mattered.

"Can we get back to work, now, Jack?"

"Who is this guy we're looking for? Not just some creepy bug collector."

"An assassin."

"Cool." Jack's whole attitude seemed changed. Whether is was the new challenge ahead of her or Zemma's attempt to bridge the gap between them, Zemma had no clear clue.

She led the way down the catwalk, intending to follow her instincts about the possible departure point of the Chemist. She had no idea that she would soon meet him, and that he would die in her presence. She had no idea that an immediate betrayal would be followed by an unforeseen redemption. Zemma had no idea her life on this ship would soon be ended.

Jack must have double up her fists to hit Zemma from behind, because she did see stars for a moment. But she was too busy grasping for any handhold to life, as Jack tipped her over the railing, to indulge in anything so restorative as unconsciousness. Jack was pounding at Zemma's hands and hissing at her.

"You can't tell anyone. I don't care of Riddick hates me. No one can know! They can buy anyone. But they can't…. have… me…."

Jack finally peeled Zemma's hands from the rail. Zemma, however, had enough presence of mind by then to control her fall. It still hurt like hell when she bounced off the first pipe to slow her progress. Zemma reached for another handhold but missed and slipped further down the second pipe before falling again. She got the wind knocked out of her a second time but the beam she landed on was not slanted as steeply so she didn't fall off as she slid down it.

She did however finally end up with her foot jammed and hanging upside down some feet from the nearest flat surface.

Shit.

Damn.

Fuck.

Now what?

Jack was surely long gone. And while the code she memorized Zemma using would not open that one particular door again, it was good for anything not too high level. Zemma wondered if the girl was planning on escaping the ship. Riddick was going to be pissed.

If he ever finds out. If they ever find you. Big ship, Zem, and LOUD down here.

Zemma's foot was hurting like hell and she was a good six feet from walkway below her. She couldn't see any easy way to get free. She had the body strength to pull herself up, but the cross-beams prevented her from getting at the right angle to get loose. She had slid into this position and had no good way to un-slide without help.

"Well, what an interesting turn of fortune."

What the hell?

"And here I thought I might be stuck going all the way to Fury with you freaks."

Zemma couldn't see the owner of the voice, somewhere behind her on the catwalk, but could guess. The Chemist, hiding under her nose. Just her luck.

"I hope the Vaakos appreciate the gift I'm about to give them."

Shit.

Zemma gained the comfort of unconsciousness at that point, as the Chemist hit her with something across the back of her head.


	83. Redemption

**Redemption**

* * *

Zemma woke with all the expected aches and pains. At least she wasn't hanging upside down by a (probably broken) foot. She wasn't free, though. Her head was wrapped in something… someone's shirt? She could feel a rope, or something similar, around her neck, her wrists, her ankles. When she tried to wiggle she nearly strangled herself.

More fun.

At least it's an improvement over upside down.

"Awake, are we?"

Zemma didn't bother to answer. She was trying to listen. She couldn't hear the engines, so they weren't in the maintenance areas anymore. She heard a tapping sound.

"I'm going to put you back to sleep, until Vaako decides to finally make an appearance."

The voice was agitated. Zemma thought that might mean good news. If this man contacted Lord Vaako but wasn't getting the response he expected, perhaps the talk she and Riddick had with Vaako had some impact.

Vaako hadn't liked hearing that he was Furyan; hadn't believed it. Zemma didn't think she could make his lenses pop up with the pressure points since he had never used them; had never even known they existed.

Zemma felt a sharp stab in her arm. She controlled her breathing and initial panic. Either she would wake up or… She didn't finish the thought. She would wake up. She was useless to him dead. Probably just as useless catatonic like Dame Vaako. Besides, he wouldn't have tied her up if he planned to use that poison. She would wake up.

Her mind wandered back to Vaako.

He had been standing still as a statue, fuming, when Riddick called Zemma from the bedroom.

"Show him," was all Riddick had said, and he had pointed at his own eyes.

Zemma had felt uncomfortable and unsure of this tactic, but she knew he had done it for her benefit. If she wanted every Furyan to go home, then she would have to make THIS one see things differently.

"Lord Vaako, I'm going to touch your face. Your blue lenses should pop up. Try to relax. Let it happen."

He hadn't moved…

He didn't pull away, but neither was he relaxed. Zemma didn't hold out much hope. He would probably react badly either way. If Riddick weren't standing behind her she might have stroked Vaako's face and talked softly to him; tried to help him settle down and adjust.

Zemma waited in front of him until his gaze moved from Riddick to her. She tried to smile but balked at his expression.

"Get on with it," he growled. "Try to prove your lie."

Zemma had reached up and pressed the points on his face that might alter Vaako's perception in more than one way.

Zemma's memories faded with her consciousness.

When she woke up, it was to a kick. She gasped, tried to move, and nearly strangled. Her predicament unfolded in her mind again: Bound, blind, and broken.

"The ships are going down. They aren't landing, they're crashing!" The voice was more than agitated. He hadn't expected this, perhaps only expected them to make a run from the battle, leaving the 'Mongers to their fate in the sacrificial war. Zemma suddenly realized how malicious their chosen tactic must seem to a true 'Monger. The soldiers dying trapped in their huge battleships had no way of fighting back. They were being thrown to the ground like an angry child's toy. Soldiers already on the ground could not escape the fiery death from above as the cruisers impacted like nuclear bombs.

Zemma was kicked again and couldn't catch her breath.

"Did Vaako know about this? Is that why my calls are being ignored? Furyan bitch!"

Zemma couldn't answer even if she wanted to.

Vaako, do you know about THIS? Is this your revenge?

She could hear the Chemist making another frantic, threatening call to the Vaakos.

Are you even there, Trygg? Or did you choose to follow your faith after all?

When Vaako's blue lenses had popped up Zemma had been relieved. At least he could face the future knowing the truth. He could choose his destiny. Zemma had stepped back, faded back as quietly as she had as Min, trying to become a part of the background…

Vaako looked around slowly without speaking.

"You aren't the first soldier to be lied to," Riddick spoke calmly. "You wont be the last. Your masters are gone, now. You're a free agent."

"What do you know about soldiering?" Vaako hissed. He still hadn't moved, was staring at Riddick with his new eyes.

"I was a soldier once," Riddick said simply.

Zemma's mind kicked into high gear. She hadn't seen anything that indicated Riddick was ever a soldier!

"I did what I was told, and I killed who I was supposed to." Riddick's voice seemed almost sad to Zemma. "Duty. Victory. Honor? I lived for that. Until I realized my masters didn't have any concept of the last one." Riddick crossed his arms and started pacing; his bearing was that of tightly controlled anger.

"If you wanna live doing what you're told until you die in some war you don't give a shit about, then get on a transport and head down to the planet and be a good little soldier. I'm not your Lord Marshal anymore, you can go find whatever peace you think you have coming to you down there.

"But if you want honor you're going to have to decide for yourself who you kill and why."

Riddick stopped in front of Lord Vaako. They stood eye to eye. Zemma couldn't read either of them, they stood so still, staring each other down, deciding for themselves who might die right now.

"Can you live with that?" Riddick's voice was commanding, daunting.

Zemma heard a tapping again. The Chemist was still muttering and cursing. The poke in her arm was expected. She didn't have time to wonder what would happen next; blackness ensued.

Zemma woke this time to a familiar voice, one that sent shivers of fear down her spine. She had convinced herself that the Chemist needed her alive and that he would eventually make a mistake. Now she was truly afraid.

"Wakey, wakey," the soft, cracked, voice of Dame Vaako.

Zemma didn't move, tried to keep her breathing deep and slow as a sleeping person's. She was lying on her side on something soft and reeking of piss. So she was in the Vaakos' bed. Zemma's stomach tightened into a knot and she had to control her initial reaction to retch.

Whatever was around her head was pulled roughly away. Zemma debated and decided to keep her eyes closed and feign unconsciousness a little longer.

"She's still asleep. Give her another dose." The Lady's voice was as imperious as ever but sounded weak and breathless.

"She's awake," the Chemist's voice was farther away. He probably smelled the bed too.

Zemma was startled by a sharp slap to the face. Her initial reaction was to fight back but the lack of feeling in her hands told her she was still bound. Zemma opened her eyes instead and was faced with a countenance she did not expect.

Lady Vaako's face was ravaged as if by time. Her skin was grayish, her hair was thin, her eyes… Well, it was obvious she was quite mad.

Yeah for me, the fun never stops.

Dame Vaako smiled and her teeth showed the woman's continued devotion to not taking care of herself anymore. Zemma smelled something even worse than urine. Decay. The woman was a walking, talking corpse that didn't have the good sense to fall down.

"What did you do to my husband?" The harridan menaced.

Huh?

The Lady produced a knife. "Where is my husband, bitch?"

Well, that was interesting. Vaako left the Lord Marshal's suite and didn't go home?

How long has it been?

Dame Vaako ran the point of the knife along Zemma's face, lightly.

"I'm right here, Rachana." The voice was cold, and followed by a thump; a body falling to the floor?

Zemma couldn't turn to see. Dame Vaako's face changed though. It was horrible, feral.

Death mask.

Then all Zemma could see was the point of the knife wavering at her eye as Dame Vaako stood shakily.

"Vaako," she purred. But her voice was as ruined as the rest of her.

"Step away from there, Rachana."

"Vaako, this is our chance. We can take back the Basilica! We can make our run for the Underverse ourselves. We can…"

"No, Rachana. This isn't the way to honor." Long-suffering voice, trying to be patient.

"Fuck honor! We have a chance at glory!" Shrieking.

Oh, Lady, that was probably the wrong thing to say.

"Glory?" Lord Vaako wasn't shouting but sounded closer. "I've been following you on the path to glory. What has it gotten us? Look what it's gotten you. Isolated, hated, feared."

"The price of power!" Lady Vaako was still shrieking.

"Power to do what?" Still calm, but Zemma could hear something else in his voice. Something raw… Something dangerous.

"Anything we desire." Lady Vaako's voice dropped to a conspirator's whisper, greedy and thick.

"Anything?" Lord Vaako stepped into Zemma's view. She saw his hand reach for his wife's hand, the one holding the dagger at Zemma's eye.

"I want my honor back."


	84. End & Epilogue

**End and Epilogue**

* * *

It's this damn ship.

Are we all going to go mad here?

Vaako held his wife close, seemed to be murmuring in her ear. His hand held her wrist, but the blade was still inches from Zemma's eye.

"I loved you more than life or death."

Zemma wasn't sure what to make of that. She wasn't at an angle to read Vaako, her view being limited by her bound position on the bed. His voice was still raw, and sad, and Zemma thought there was something more. There was a dangerous quality to it.

Madness: again, or still.

This place will drive us all insane.

"Vaako, my young warrior, I'm going to make you Lord Marshal."

Zemma saw the Lord's hand tighten on his Lady's wrist.

"You were destined for Underserve, my love."

Zemma saw the dagger move away, up and towards the soiled nightdress of the ruined Lady.

"Vaako?"

"You deserve more than I can give you, now, Rachana."

"Vaako!" Panic and disbelief in the Lady's voice.

"You'll be reborn, Rachana. You'll be… perfection, again." Sorrow. Guilt.

Absolution.

He forgives her.

"Vaako! No!"

"Forgive me, Rachana."

Their bodies shook a little, as she struggled in his grip. His hand on her wrist moved the dagger inevitably towards her ravaged body.

"We'll both be free, Rachana."

The Lady was thrashing now, but she was defenseless against his decision.

"Don't throw away your chance at power!" Dame Vaako hissed.

Zemma was impressed at the Lady's courage. She wasn't screaming now, she was trying to rationalize with her spouse.

But the ship has him in its clutches, Lady. Just as it has you.

And me. And we're all damned.

Zemma never felt so helpless and depressed.

"The only power I have left, my love, is to take back my honor."

Zemma heard a soft, terrible noise. The death of the Lady was anticlimactic to her life of rage and passion. Perhaps Lord Vaako covered her mouth in a kiss before that final thrust. Zemma didn't want to see. What she did see was the knife drop to the floor between them and scarlet cover them both as Lord Vaako clutched his dead wife's body to his.

The door and voice comm were signaling for attention.

Zemma was a little afraid to speak; which never seemed to stop her anymore.

"Vaako?"

No answer.

"Commander?"

Is it wise to get his attention right now?

The door comm quit its incessant noise. Zemma heard the sound of people in the other room. Vaako dropped the body of his beloved and turned towards the living area. When he crouched to pick up the dropped blade Zemma worried less about herself suddenly. The man's grief…

"Commander Vaako?" A strange voice.

"I killed her." Lord Vaako stood, bloody dagger in hand.

Zemma heard the sound of a rifle being readied.

"Step away from there, Commander." Wary voice, very tense.

Vaako turned towards Zemma instead.

"Commander, step away!"

Zemma had to find her voice. "I'm alive. I'm alright."

Vaako was leaning over Zemma, knife in hand.

"Commander!" The voice was at it's final warning; Zemma could hear the muffling as the rifle was brought to bear at the soldier's shoulder.

"Commander Vaako!" Jaron's voice.

Thank the stars.

"I'm okay, Jaron. Don't shoot."

Vaako continued his slow movement over Zemma. She felt the bonds at her wrists cut and had to control a scream as feeling suddenly returned with pain. Zemma closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She felt another body nearby and Jaron's voice over her.

"Commander, give me the knife."

Then…

"Take him into the other room."

Zemma felt her other bonds cut and again had to repress the need to scream from the pain of circulation returning to limbs that had been without for too long.

"Jaron?"

"Zemma are you alright?"

"Jaron, I don't think I can walk," Zemma said between clenched teeth, her eyes still squeezed closed in the effort not to make more noise than necessary.

She felt Jaron pick her up.

"How long has it been?"

"Three days, Zemma. Riddick took off after Jack when she used your code to steal a ship."

Three days?!

"Why, Jaron?"

"He thought she must have killed you. She had a black eye and refused to say anything." Jaron put her down on a couch and Zemma tried to stretch out weary limbs. She couldn't move her hands or feel her feet. Zemma opened her eyes and looked around.

Vaako was sitting on the edge of a chair nearby, elbows on his knees and hands on his face. Zemma was reminded of Riddick that first day, grieving the death of the girl he had thought was Jack. There were several armed marines standing about, awaiting orders. Jaron looked weary and frustrated.

"Call a stretcher," Jaron directed one of them. "We'll get you to the med lab, Zemma."

"Can you call him back, Jaron?" Zemma whispered, knowing everyone in the room could hear her but afraid to speak her fear out loud anyway.

"We lost contact yesterday, Zemma. Jack went like a bat out of hell. Riddick went after her like the devil."

Zemma had to close her eyes again to keep the tears in check. She was too tired, too hurt, to have much control left.

"And the… war?"

"The ambassador thanked us for an enthralling battle. They picked up the remains of their toys and left. We're on our way to Fury."

Zemma heard more voices enter the room.

"Time to go, Zemma. Ready?"

Zemma nodded and felt herself being lifted to the stretcher.

She felt like her life just ended. She would go on living, but her life… was over.

Zemma kept her mind blank after that.

"Zemma?"

Blank.

"Zemma?" Louder this time.

Blank.

"Zemma!"

She felt hands on her face. Jaron was speaking very loudly and close. It seemed to take all her strength to open her eyes. She was still in the med lab.

"What is it?" She whispered.

"Zemma, we can't give you the nano shot."

Zemma closed her eyes. She didn't care enough to wonder why.

Blank. Blank out the pain.

"Zemma? Zemma, come back to me, Child."

"What is it, Jaron?" Zemma kept her eyes closed but managed a hoarse whisper.

"Zemma, you need to think, when did you last have a nano shot?"

"Months ago, Jaron. Riddick…"

"Riddick gave you nanos?"

Zemma nodded.

"Zemma, he didn't program them first. They fixed everything. Now we can't use them."

"I don't understand," she mumbled. Fixed everything? Weren't they supposed to?

"You're pregnant, Zemma. We can't give you nanos. They might interfere with the baby."

Zemma struggled to come back, to open her eyes. She couldn't have heard him right.

"Jaron?"

"We're going to have to keep you in the med lab, Zemma, for a little while, while your hands and feet heal up. You'll have some needles stuck in you but they won't be nanos. It's going to take a little longer but you'll be fine."

"Jaron, I can't be pregnant, I was surgically…"

"The nanos, Zemma, they need to be programmed not to fix that. Riddick wouldn't have known."

Zemma closed her eyes and tried to bring her hands to her face, only to discover she was strapped down at the elbows.

"Don't move around, Zemma. It's just for a little while."

Blank.

"I'm going to send Don after Riddick, Zemma."

Blank.

"He's a good pilot and…"

Darkness.

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

It took them nearly two years to get to Fury, running light and fast along the 'back roads'. Don sent message spheres ahead of their path, but the news was never good. Jack's run was short, Don found her dead body before it was cold. But Riddick was gone again already. He was much harder to track by himself. Jaron never recalled Don, but Zemma gave up hope.

She doted on her daughter instead, and hoped Fury would have trees tall enough to block the view of the horizon.

It did, but it didn't help much. Zemma could walk on the surface of the planet only with her cloak hood over her head and looking at the ground. But it meant her daughter would have a halfway normal life. She lived with Grampa Jaron during the days Zemma took her turn shuttling people and matter from the ships. She hated the days she lived on the mostly gutted cruiser, and suppressed her dread of stepping out into the open alone.

At least Nor enjoyed her new home.

* * *

Zemma could hear Sada playing below her on the main concourse as she walked slowly down the ramps. Jaron had brought her up to visit until Zemma went off duty. Now it was time to go home.

"Who are you?" Zemma heard her daughter's tiny four-year-old voice ask, before she came into view.

"Who are YOU?" A deep familiar voice answered.

Zemma froze.

"I'm Sada R'Ddick W'Neta."

Zemma counted her heartbeats in the pause.

"Pleased to meet you, MinW'Neta," the voice finally answered softly.

Zemma walked to the edge of the ramp and looked down.

Riddick was crouched down in front of the little girl, elbows on his knees and hands dangling between them. He turned suddenly to look upward at Zemma. Her heart leaped.

Krugeri!

Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright…

He smiled.


	85. Alternate Ending

**Alternate Ending**

* * *

It's this damn ship.

Are we all going to go mad here?

Vaako held his wife close, seemed to be murmuring in her ear. His hand held her wrist, but the blade was still inches from Zemma's eye.

"I loved you more than life or death."

Zemma wasn't sure what to make of that. She wasn't at an angle to read Vaako, her view being limited by her bound position on the bed. His voice was still raw, and sad, and Zemma thought there was something more. There was a dangerous quality to it.

Madness: again, or still.

This place will drive us all insane.

"Vaako, my young warrior, I'm going to make you Lord Marshal."

Zemma saw the Lord's hand tighten on his Lady's wrist.

"You were destined for Underserve, my love."

Zemma saw the dagger move away, up and towards the soiled nightdress of the ruined Lady.

"Vaako?"

"You deserve more than I can give you, now, Rachana."

"Vaako!" Panic and disbelief in the Lady's voice.

"You'll be reborn, Rachana. You'll be... perfection, again." Sorrow. Guilt.

Absolution.

He forgives her.

"Vaako! No!"

"Forgive me, Rachana."

Their bodies shook a little, as she struggled in his grip. His hand on her wrist moved the dagger inevitably towards her ravaged body.

"We'll both be free, Rachana."

The Lady was thrashing now, but she was defenseless against his decision.

"Don't throw away your chance at power!" Dame Vaako hissed.

Zemma was impressed at the Lady's courage. She wasn't screaming now, she was trying to rationalize with her spouse.

But the ship has him in its clutches, Lady. Just as it has you.

And me. And we're all damned.

Zemma never felt so helpless and depressed.

"The only power I have left, my love, is to take back my honor."

Zemma heard a soft, terrible noise. The death of the Lady was anticlimactic to her life of rage and passion. Perhaps Lord Vaako covered her mouth in a kiss before that final thrust. Zemma didn't want to see. What she did see was the knife drop to the floor between them and scarlet cover them both as Lord Vaako clutched his dead wife's body to his.

The door and voice comm were signaling for attention.

Zemma was a little afraid to speak; which never seemed to stop her anymore.

"Vaako?" She whispered hoarsely.

No answer.

"Commander?" She tried a little louder.

Is it wise to get his attention right now?

The door comm quit its incessant noise. Zemma heard the sound of people in the other room. Vaako dropped the body of his beloved and turned towards the living area. When he crouched to pick up the dropped blade Zemma worried less about herself suddenly. The man's grief...

"Vaako." Riddick's voice seemed to be both command and question.

They found her! Don must have seen the Chemist move her here.

Vaako straightened slowly. "Lord Marshal." His voice was defeated.

"I told you," Riddick spoke slowly. "I'm not your Lord Marshal anymore."

"I'm," Vaako hesitated as if trying to wrap his mind around the idea. "Free?"

"Can you live with that?" Wariness. Riddick was waiting to see if Vaako had pushed himself over the edge. Zemma was too.

"Who did you kill to get your honor back?" Vaako seemed almost conversational. Zemma thought that was a good sign.

"It was who I didn't kill," Riddick replied.

Cryptic as always.

Zemma wanted to ask this supposed murderer who he DIDN'T kill, and how much more of his reported history was a lie.

Later... Listen.

"Then what did you do?" Vaako asked quietly.

"I left."

Zemma saw Vaako turn towards her with the knife. She still couldn't see his face from her angle. She heard the sound of a rifle being readied across the room.

"Step back." Riddick's voice sounded closer.

"Sir, step away from there." Another voice, one she didn't know.

"Commander," Jaron's voice, with warning in it.

"She enslaved me." Vaako's voice was distant again.

He was starting to lean over Zemma. She couldn't see anything but the knife pass over her face.

"Vaako." Riddick's voice was closer again, calm and commanding as always. "Drop the knife."

Zemma felt the blade against the back of her neck. She kept very still.

"Sir, I have a clear shot." The voice, from somewhere behind her, sounded eager.

"Wait." Riddick was close enough for Zemma to see his leg as he stepped beside Vaako.

The knife at Zemma's neck moved suddenly and the cord around her neck was severed. She took a deep breath and tried to straighten her body from the cramped position she'd been bound in. Hands grabbed her arms and she felt the bonds being cut there too. She closed her eyes and had to clamp her jaw shut to keep from screaming as circulation, feeling and pain returned.

She heard Jaron's voice, "Take him to the other room."

Zemma felt her feet cut loose. She couldn't move much yet, shaking from the effort not to make a lot of noise, though she knew some sounds were escaping her. The sound of her own blood pressure was very loud in her ears. Her breath was hitching in her throat.

"...Zemma?" Riddick's challenge voice.

"Ask... me... tomorrow," she managed to hiss between gasps, eyes still closed.

"Call for a stretcher," Jaron commanded someone in the other room.

"Where are you hurt?" She felt him lay a hand on her face and now had to control tears of relief as well as pain.

"Broken foot..." she managed. "Ribs too, maybe."

"You've been gone three days."

Zemma opened her eyes to see Riddick's face inches from her own. He had that concerned look that always ate away at her self-control. "Three days?" Her voice was raspy.

Probably the bed isn't the only thing that smells then.

That's a helpful thought.

"Where's Jack?" Zemma tried to distract herself.

"Locked in your old bedroom with Nor for a guard." Riddick smirked a moment before his face turned serious. "She won't say what happened. She tried to use your code to pinch a ship."

"My fault," Zemma rasped out and closed her eyes.

"Bullshit." Zemma heard a serious quality in Riddick's voice; don't lie to me, don't lie for her.

Zemma opted not to say any more. She didn't want to lie to him, wasn't even sure she could. She just didn't want to see the scared kid pushed too far, or see the girl push Riddick too far either.

Woman. She's an adult.

Hmm.

Zemma felt herself drifting away. Sounds in the other room seemed distant.

"...Zemma?" Riddick's voice was faint.

Zemma tried to respond but fell into darkness.

She awoke in the brightly lit med lab.

"Do we tell her?" Jaron was whispering so quietly Zemma could barely hear him.

"No," Riddick was firm.

Zemma struggled to open her eyes and speak again, but floated away before she could form any words.

She drifted back to consciousness in the dark, strange dreams wafting away. Her pain was lessened to the point she could string one thought after the other. The first was:

Where the hell am I?

The second was:

Where's Riddick?

Zemma blinked her blue lenses up; she was in the bedroom she shared with Riddick. She rolled over and discovered him sleeping next to her. His eyes opened.

"You okay?"

Zemma nodded.

"Go back to sleep," he told her.

Zemma nodded.

Everything could wait till morning.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
